Flocking Movement: One of The Terrible Things
by Xazz
Summary: Atlantis has risen. But maybe it isn't as bad as it seems when Desmond returns. Its different now though, he's different. The future will come to pass and it will depend on his anger, and his mercy.
1. Epigraph

"Terrible things happen to good people every day.

Consequentially, I am not one of the good people.

I am one of the terrible things."

-Marianna Paige


	2. Change of Course

So I'm back a bit earlier than expected for the _last_ installment of Flocking Movement. When I get obsessed with a thing I _really_ get obsessed with a thing. Won't be so focus fire on this story like I was for Triad though, I want to keep up with some of my other stories still (or attempt... an attempt is being made okay, I promise)

But yeah. Welcome back to Flocking Movement, I'm super excited, I hope you are too. Time to finally get some questions answered. If only Ubisoft would do that.

* * *

><p>The heat was intense. Even an ice age couldn't stop the Sahara from being hot as shit in the middle of the summer, or dry as a bone. The hot air created great dust storms on the plains land that stopped everything in its tracks for miles, even the animals and proeathan ships grounding themselves to get out of the dust. For a few months of the year, nothing grew, and even the plantations didn't bother to try and force life from the parched land.<p>

But the air was clear today, the sky a magnificent shade of blue. A lone figure walked across the plains to a shallow lake, which as swollen still from the spring rains and winter thaw. They were covered head to toe, not even their eyes exposed, but their height and swift gait betrayed them as a man. They wore a large pack on their back but it didn't seem to slow him down for he walked quickly towards the shallow lake, startling wading birds there, a leopard who was lying in the shade of one of the trees that lined the edge of the lake eyed him with a sleepy gaze.

Upon arriving at the lake the man removed one of his gloves and crouched, dipping his hand into the shallow murk. His hand was covered in glyphs that glowed a gentle teal color where it touched the water. "Little pig, little pig, let me in," the figure said, teasingly.

"I believe," a female voice, round and matronly, said,, "that the rest of it goes 'not by the hair on my chinny chin chin'."

The man chucked, "And the rest?" he asked.

"Or I'll huff and I'll puff," a deep, echoey, man's voice said, "and I'll blow your house in."

The man grinned behind the head scarf covering his face, but not showing even in his eyes as they were covered by protective, mirrored, goggles. "Yeah, something like that. Now open up Demeter, it's hot out here and I don't have all day." Then the man stood up and put his glove back on as the lake opened. Birds went flying and the leopard got to their feet in interest.

A pathway formed in the shallow lake water, raising up through the muck and silt to come right below the water. The man walked across the shallow bridge to the open hole and to see him from afar it would have liked like he was walking on water. At the top of the hole that led down into the earth there was a disk protruding from the side, the man stepped onto it. "Should they be informed?" the matron asked.

"Nah, let them be surprised," the man scoffed as the disk started to descend. As it did the lake closed up over him.

"Well they're in a bit of a state," she said.

"They can afford to be in a bit of a state. They'll live."

There was a pause, "That was a terrible joke," said a new voice, a young woman, robust and yet annoyed with him.

He chuckled, "Not like you're the best company, and the others _so_ don't get my humor," he sighed.

"They try," the girl said.

He said nothing and the elevator continued down and down and down into the darkness and then it abruptly changed directions and started moving horizontally. The man didn't seem to care and just waited patiently.

"Hello," Demeter's voice was lovely as she greeted the man as the elevator stopped at a large, cavernous, room with a tall pillar in the center. The pillar had round holes in it and there were fifteen of them, though one had already been filled. "Over here," the AI appeared before the man and beckoned him towards the pillar.

"So after this I'm done with this, right?" the man asked.

"With this part," Pluto said, walking next to the man.

"Of course," the man sighed. "What's the others' ETA?' he asked as he got in front of the pillar and unslung the pack. Metal thunked against itself and the ground.

"Hey! Be careful with that," Mercury's shrill, childish, voice said, though he sounded very concerned as well.

"They should be here later tonight," Demeter said.

"Good," the man said, "So where's this go?" he asked picking out a large, spherical, device from the pack. Demeter directed him to which hole went to which sphere. He had five in total, each fitting neatly into the holes.

"So you know, they're coming," Pluto said at one point.

"Of course they are," the man said.

"You really should have just done it the other way," Pluto said sternly.

"I wanted to get this done first and I won't be able to move even until I get done with them and who _knows_ when that'll be. So, work first, play second."

Pluto eyed him a moment, then he smiled slightly, "I think they'll have a nice surprise."

The man left the pillar and headed for the exit as directed, getting onto another lift and being taken away. When the lift came to a halt he was greeted by a bunch of people with guns. He raised his hands. "I'm not proeathan," he said.

"Stand down," someone said behind them and the gunmen lowered their weapons and parted at who'd spoken. "Who are you?" Ezio asked, "What are you doing here? How did you get in here?"

"Wow, you're seriously off your game old man," the man said. Ezio's brow furrowed in confusion. Ezio had cut his hair since the last time they'd met, and shaved off his winter facial hair.

"_Excuse me_?" he asked.

The man lifted his goggled up to show his eyes, "Recognize me now?" he asked and Ezio's face went totally slack and his eyes widened, his mouth opening a bit, looking completely stunned.

"D-Desmond?" he asked.

"Hey," Desmond said, grinning.

"Sir?" one of the gunmen asked, "Who is that?"

"Where have you been!" Ezio yelled and Desmond laughed, a great, robust, fully body laugh when Ezio suddenly grabbed him up and hugged him, lifting him off the ground an inch or two.

"Missed you too," and he hugged Ezio back, smacking his back a few times.

"Sir?" someone asked, the soldiers looked so bewildered, and not a little freaked out.

"Its all right everyone," Ezio said, turning towards them, waving them all. "False alarm. Good response time though, everyone did very well. Return your gear and get back to what you were doing."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes I'm sure, go on," and he shooed them. After a moment the soldiers did leave, but looked over their shoulders warily after that. "Where the _hell_ have you been kid? And what are you wearing?"

"Its easier this way," Desmond said, his goggles still on the top of his head. "Who were they?" he asked.

"Minutemen, Hawk's idea, in case anything happened."

"Ah."

"Now you come with me, everyone's gonna wanna see you."

"And ask like five thousand questions," Desmond sighed.

"Well, you have been gone almost six months," Ezio said, looking at him with a knife slash mouth. "Lots of questions need to be answered, and you should just answer them once and not five times."

"Sounds good to me," Desmond said, "Though I'm really looking forward to a shower and a soft bed."

Ezio chuckled, "I'm sure," he said.

Ezio led him through Demeter, clearly knowing his way around. Some people gave them a look but didn't say anything. They'd know if they needed to. "And I have some questions too," Desmond said, seeing all the people, the soldiers from before, the clear army his ancestors has trained.

"Of course," Ezio said and they came to a door which irised open. It looked like a war room and clearly everyone of importance was there. Altair, his hair cut down to a fine buzz; Hawk, who's hair had only gotten longer and he wore in a braid over his shoulder; Jake who looked the same, same dumb haircut, same dumb look on his face; and Clay who Desmond hadn't seen in years and had shaved it all off like Altair. Shaun was also in there, he still looked too old, and there was _more_ white in his ginger hair. Last was someone his eyes went to first and his heart swelled. Lucy. She'd cut her hair and Desmond thought she looked even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her.

"Is this the intruder?" Altair asked, standing up from his place at a table where they seemed to be monitoring the situation.

"Yes," Ezio said, sounding amused.

"Though one thing, not an intruder," Desmond said.

"You infiltrated our base, I think that counts," Altair said, narrow eyed.

Desmond looked at Ezio, "Was he always this touchy?" he asked. Ezio snorted.

Altair paused, taking in what he was looking at, "What?" he asked.

"_Man_," Desmond sighed, "Alive for a few centuries, still stupid, all of you," Desmond said.

"Excuse me?"

Desmond looked at Ezio, "I think he's rubbing off on you Ezio," he said and they reached up to the wraps he had wound around his head and face he'd done to keep the sand and dirt and off his face and the dry wind from chapping his skin. "Or maybe you're rubbing off on them since I don't remember you all being so stupid," and he started to take off the wraps. He revealed his hair first, hair he needed to cut soon, it was too long for his liking, and then his forehead where the glyphs started. They'd progressed onto his neck and face a few months ago and now covered his entire body from the bottoms of his feet to the top of his skull and the palms of his hands.

He enjoyed the surprise on all their faces as he continued to take off the wrap, unwinding it from across his nose and the sides of his head and then his mouth and chin. "Still think I'm an intruder?" Desmond asked once he'd finished uncovering his head and face. Everyone was staring at him. "What? Something on my face?" he asked, though that was a bit of a trick question since he had about six glyphs on his face, one that even crossed the line of symmetry on his nose.

Jake was the first one to not look stupid and figure out how to use his voice, "Shut up, Desmond," and that made him laugh.


	3. The Flock

Everyone literally started talking at once, bombarding Desmond with questions, demands. All wanting answers, all wanting to know what had happened, where he'd been. Desmond felt them ping off him like radar and he let them come. For a minute at least before raising his hands, "Okay, quiet," and he didn't even have to raise his voice, everyone just sort of petered out. "I can't hear everyone at once. One question at a time, okay?"

"Okay," Altair said, and he wasn't the only one nodding.

"Jake, you first."

"What the fuck man?"

"That was a statement, not a question, moving on," Desmond said, "Hawk, you next."

"Where the _hell_ have you been?" he asked.

Desmond didn't answer right away, "Everywhere," he said, "I went up to the western coast of Canada, then to eastern Asia across the ice bridge that connects Alaska and Russia. I went through Asia, across Europe, and eventually made my way here. Took me a while. I walked a lot of it, or found things to drive. Altair, you get the next one," he said.

"What happened to your face?" and Altair sounded so sincerely worried about it.

Desmond just shrugged, "Not really sure honestly," he idly scratched his cheek, the glyphs on his face weren't just light now. Raising Atlantis had scarred them into his flesh, so even when they didn't glow they were raised up from the rest of his skin. "Cosmetic skin alterations. Not quite sure what it is. And its all over, not just my face. Ezio, next." He was glad they were all being so orderly.

"What were you doing in Demeter's Core?"

"Putting the others in there. I stopped by the other AI bases," he grabbed a chair and finally sat down with a sigh, that felt good. "Carried Mercury and Artemis all across Asia with me, and lemmie tell you, Mercury; fucking asshole."

"Fuck you Desmond," Mercury suddenly chimed in.

"Shut up, kid," he said. "Clay, you can go next."

"Where's Atlantis?" Clay had been staring at him the entire time. "Why did you raise Atlantis?"

"Because I needed to," Desmond said, and before he'd been relaxed, now he went hard. "And its in the middle of the Sargasso Sea."

"But _why_?" Clay stressed.

"Because I need to go there," Desmond said. Clay didn't look satisfied, but too bad. "Shaun, you can ask a question now," he said.

"Why didn't you announce yourself?" he asked, "You didn't need to go skulking about around here."

"Because I knew if I came in the front door it would have taken me too long to get to the Core Room because I would have needed to have this conversation. And I just wanted to finish something before starting another thing."

"Fair enough, I suppose. Would have been nice to have a warning."

Desmond smiled, "I wanted to surprise you. And trust me, for the look on all your faces when you saw me it was _well_ worth it," and Shaun wasn't the only one who rolled their eyes at him. Then he turned his gaze on Lucy and she swallowed, "You're last," he said.

"Can I talk to you after this whole thing? In private?"

"Of course," and that was an easy question to answer. Talking wasn't the only thing he wanted to do in private either. "You got a not stupid question Jake?" he asked.

"If you've been all over the place, how'd you find us? We haven't had any correspondence with you in six months."

"The AIs guided me," he said. "They still talk to each other."

"How did you get in?" Jake asked quickly.

"I told Demeter to open the front door, obviously. And that was two questions, its Hawk's turn now."

"How aware of the situation here are you?"

"You mean about the fun you've been having while I've been gone? I know. Four plantations take overs in six months is impressive. The proeathans are _super_ pissed and they don't know how you've done it. Frankly I think its amazing, since I saw one of the factories in southern Asia, and I don't even know where I'd start with liberating it."

"We had an ace they didn't account for," Altair said, "also its really disheartening for soldiers to watch the people they just shot and killed get back up again to continue fighting them. They didn't even see us coming."

"How do you know the proeathans know?" Hawk asked, as sharp as always.

"I met some," Desmond said. The questions started all at once again, "Woah, woah, calm the hell down," Desmond cried.

"What do you mean you _met some_?"

"I mean I met some," Desmond said then he sighed. "And actually, they're coming here."

"Desmond! This base is secret, the proeathans have never been able to find it because they don't know where Demeter is and you're going to just _let them in_?" Altair demanded. "Absolutely not."

"Altair," Desmond said, "Shut up," and Altair looked taken aback. "You guys have done a good thing. You made an army out slaves and yeah you've taken a few of their plantations but you have what? Twelve thousand people? How many of them actually decided to join this little army? Six thousand? Seven thousand?"

"Eight and some change," Hawk said.

"Eight and some change…" he laughed dryly, shaking his head a little. "Its not enough. The end game is Atlantis, its always, been Atlantis. And your eight thousand strong army is nothing. There are twelve million proeathans on earth, right now, from all different nations before we stopped them the first time. Between the factions there are two soldiers. Two _million_. I don't think you realize the scope of what we're up against. Proeathans outnumber us nearly two hundred and fifty to one at those odds.

"So I brought help," Desmond said, "Your eight thousand isn't going to make a dent, even trained by Assassins. These proeathans coming to Demeter want to _help us_, like the AIs do. For the past five months the proeathans have had time to reclaim Atlantis, fortify it, and prepare. They know we aren't dead, they damn sure know _I'm _not dead. So you might not like it, but they're coming, and I'm going to let them in."

"You can't expect us to-

"No, I do," Desmond cut Altair off like he never had before. Altair looked annoyed. "There are some things you all might need to come to terms with now, before shit gets going. I'm not the same guy I left as. And this base, that army you trained; its mine now."

"Desmond that's unreasonable," Shaun said.

He looked at the red head, "No, it isn't," he said. "I fucked this up. I'm unfucking it, and if that means I need to grab it by the balls and squeeze, I will. You might be in charge, but now you're running on my agenda and time table, because I know what needs doing, and you've been sitting here, twiddling your thumbs, waiting me to come back. Well here I am, and you've already declared war on the proeathans, I'm going to make sure we win it and not just buzz around them like annoying flies.

"Thirty thousand proeathans will be arriving at Demeter later tonight along with Artemis and a large cargo of tech from Venus. If any of you have a problem with that I will be happy to tell Demeter to see you to the surface."

"You wouldn't," Altair said, eyes slightly narrowed.

Desmond looked at him, dead in the eyes, "Yes I would. You're listening to me now, and that's the end of this discussion. Otherwise I _will_ have Demeter take you to the surface, and its the middle of summer up there, hot and dry and miserable. I know, I walked across it. So what's it going to be Altair?"

They all turned and looked at Altair, they knew if Altair balked, there'd be a fight, but if he didn't, they'd comply. Desmond wasn't playing anymore. He wasn't a child, he wasn't to be coddled. Six months away had done more for him than six months with his ancestors. They'd softened the blow of his choice, kept him close, and safe, protected him. But he'd been gone six months and he'd had to face all his choices, had to do things he didn't think he'd ever do. He'd grown stronger, more capable.

Proeathan lore said that the Unnamed wasn't just the end. It was the end, but it wasn't an event. It was a person who would bring about the end of life as they knew it. What exactly those words meant was up for a lot of debate apparently. But there was no debating that the Unnamed would be a man of stature, both in body and in presence, who would lead those who followed him to the destruction of all things. When Desmond had heard that he'd been terrified of what he could be.

But after what he'd seen, the people he'd seen suffer at the hands of the proeathans, he didn't feel like that anymore. He'd had to face his choices, and he could either be beat down like them like before when he'd wanted to kill himself nearly every day. Or he could step up and do something about it. He wasn't going to run anymore. If the proeathans wanted the end of the world; he'd fucking give it to them, and if he had to destroy everything either species had ever created to do so, he would.

He was tired of being weak, of being stepped on, of his desires not seeming to matter. Which was why he was here now, and why he was giving his ancestors, Altair, this choice. They could listen to him, and continue to do as they did. Or, they could go against him and he'd remove them. He knew his course, and he wouldn't let anyone get in his way, not the proeathans, not his ancestors, and damn sure not Altair.

"You've changed," Altair said.

"That tends to happen when the world ends," Desmond said flatly.

"I don't like it," Altair said, "But you're right. We need help. I wish it wasn't proeathans, but at this point beggars can't be choosers."

Desmond relaxed a little. He didn't want to have to send Altair away, he would have, but he didn't want to. So he was glad he didn't have to. "No," he agreed, "I'll keep them away from the humans, I don't want to freak them out unnecessarily by all the proeathans."

"Good," Altair said.

"Are there any other super pressing questions? I want to go shower and change clothes. These are ripe as shit."

"We can talk more later," Ezio said before anyone else could say no. "You need to tell us more about your journey," he said.

"I will," Desmond promised. "I don't promise it'll be very exciting. A lot of walking, but I will."

"Good enough," Ezio said and Desmond got to his feet, his legs aching, he just wanted to lay down and sleep for a day or two, recover a bit from that ordeal of walking from the Mediterranean carrying all those cores. Maybe he'd get a chance to relax, just a little, before he had to be on his game again. He wasn't the only one who got up and Shaun left quickly, Ezio did as well, he'd figure it out later.

Before he left though Altair came over and hugged him tightly, "I'm glad you're back, kid," he said.

Desmond hugged him back, "Had to eventually," and Altair clapped him on the back before releasing him. Hawk got to hug him next, it was brief but firm and he said nothing before leaving the room.

"Oh, Desmond," Jake said, "Uh… don't be freaked out if you see Cain around. He's… around," he said.

"I know," Desmond said, "I'm actually really up to date on the goings-on of this place," he said and Jake gave him a one armed hug. "Now, I really… want to shower."

"Yeah, you smell like hell," Jake held his nose and Desmond shoved him a little.

"I'll see you guys when I'm done, at the very least when the proeathans come," Desmond said.

"Right, maybe get some rest?" Altair asked.

"Yeah, that sounds about right. Demeter," he called, "Show me where I'm sleeping."

"Of course, Desmond," she said appearing next to him and led him out of the room. He'd only gone like ten feet before he heard someone following him, he turned and looked. It was Lucy. She looked nervous, "Hey," he said.

"Hi," she said, "Desmond-

"I know, you wanna talk. We will, I promise. I just want to wash up first."

"Okay," she said, "Have Demeter get me when you're done I— its important."

"Of course," he said and then she hugged him. He hugged he back, and she felt small in his embrace, though not fragile or weak. She felt as strong as steel. He'd missed her _so_ much and his memories were no comparison for her. She was more beautiful than he remembered, and he felt warm all over, his heart swelling. He held onto her for a while and she didn't seem to mind. Then he let her go, but held her at arms length. "I missed you," he told her.

He didn't understand why she looked sort of upset, "I'm glad you're back," she said. "I'll talk to you when you're done cleaning up, okay?"

"Yeah," and he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. He hadn't brushed his teeth in a while and he _so_ wasn't inflicting that on her. "I'll have Demeter get you, or Venus, she likes you."

"Okay," she said and he slid his hands off her and looked at Demeter. She nodded in a directed and walked off. Desmond followed her, feeling lighter than he had in months. He was back and nothing was going to get in his way of what needed doing or what he wanted.

* * *

><p>few things i need to address because there seems to be some confusion about thing and things I won't be able to really explain in the story without extraneous narration and some general house keeping stuff:<p>

1. Cain _is not_ afraid of Desmond. He never has been. Only the proeathans are afraid of Desmond. Cain respects Desmond the same way you respect a natural disaster. But he isn't _afraid_.

2. Hawk's name for Desmond has been Little Bird since the start of Flocking Movement, if he hasn't been calling him that in the last few chapters that's simply my oversight (similar to sometimes Hera doesn't speak in a 'royal we' fashion). Hawk's names for people are as follows: Altair, Big Eagle; Ezio, Little Eagle; Desmond, Little Bird; Jacob/Jake, Stray and then later, Crow; Clay, Blondie and then later Finch; Lucy, Blondie and then later Heron.

3. The glyphs were always going to cover Desmond's body, what he did or Atlantis had no bearing on their coverage.

4. Stop making me _feeeeeeeel _things I didn't need to feel *sob* I have enough feelings I don't need more.

5. I have a personal philosophy that sort of… forbids me from turning off anon. No matter how much people might fucking _frustrate me_, I won't turn it off.

I think that's it. I just wanted to clear that up because it seems to be a continuous theme in some of your heads,


	4. This Life is a Cage

Desmond had taken a long, cool, shower/bath when Demeter had finally shown him to his room. It was a big room, though rather simple. Desmond only cared that the bed was soft and that the shower worked. It had, and he'd scrubbed away weeks of dirt and sweat and grime from his body and washed his hair until it was soft and silky. Then he'd just relaxed in the bath and might have dozed off a bit. He said might have but he had as he was woken by Demeter talking to him, trying to wake him.

He was just so tired and hadn't really been able to rest in months. He always had to be awake, had to be alert. To sleep was to invite the proeathans, the bad kind, and he didn't want that. He was good, but he couldn't take on a bunch of proeathans alone, not without serious risk to his person. He'd learned how to handle them though, to a degree.

"Desmond, Lucy keeps asking about you," Demeter was saying, probably not for the first time, but this was the first time he was awake enough to understand it. "Should I tell her to just wait until dinner-

"No, I'm awake," Desmond said with a groan and sat up in the cold water which was rather pleasant after the hot trek through the desert. "Tell her she can come if she wants," and he heaved himself out of the tub and stepped out, his legs wobbled a little, he'd fallen asleep there.

"She's coming-

"You may want to get dressed," Venus said, sort of.

"Shut up," he groaned and put a towel around his waist and went to the mirror. His hair was too long, and he had a beard. He looked awful in a beard. "Demeter, I need a trimmer," and Demeter produced one for his use. He turned it on and shaved off his beard and a good portion of his hair. He didn't go full buzz cut like he had back in Russia, but it was a near thing. Demeter also gave him a razor and some shave gel to get rid of the short beard he was rocking. The blade gradually revealed the bottom of his head and the remaining glyphs on his jaw and neck. He patted his skin dry and washed it again, just enjoying washing himself with clean soap and water like he hadn't in six months. Instead he'd been washing in lakes and rivers with nothing but cold water for his effort for the most part.

"When's she getting here?" he asked.

"Once you dress, I'm leading her around the long way," Demeter said, "She's very… anxious to see you."

Desmond smiled a sort of dopy smile, "I'm looking forward to seeing her too," none of the AIs commented.

Desmond dressed in the clothes Demeter provided him. All the clothes were dark and while not formfitting were well tailored, the jacket had a deep hood on it too, which he appreciated. She also gave him skin tight, haptic, gloves, so he wouldn't have to remove them. His skin had become quite pale in the last six months, even as summer came upon them. Desmond kept himself almost completely covered, head to toe, unless he couldn't help it. The marks on his body made him easy to discern in a crowd or from afar, so he covered them. It sometimes made his life a bit hot, but he could live with being warm to avoid detection, which was the main thing.

"She's here," Demeter said and there was a knock on the door. Desmond went to it and pretended her knocking hadn't seemed hesitant. The door opened and Lucy was standing in the doorway, wearing clothes similar to his, but they were colored, blue and white instead of black and gray. "Hi," he said cheerfully, smiling. He still couldn't get over how amazing she looked, how beautiful.

"Hi," she said and stepped into his room. "What's with the suit?" she asked.

"This? Demeter just put it out," he shrugged.

"You look like Pluto," she said.

"Please, I look way better than Pluto," he said. That made her laugh a little.

"I'm glad you're back," she told him.

"Happy to be back, you wanted to talk about something?" he asked, cutting to the chase. He wanted to get whatever they had to talk about so they could maybe do other things with their mouths than talking.

"Yes," she took a deep breath and looked down.

"Lucy? What's the matter?" because that wasn't what someone did when they had good news. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end and he got nervous.

She seemed to be psyching herself up, clearly it was very bad news. Then she looked up at him. "I don't love you," she said like she was ripping off a bandaid but it brought her no satisfaction. Desmond rocked back a bit like he'd just been hit by a wave. "In fact, I barely remember spending time with you before you left."

"What?" he asked, "How?" how could she just… forget? Desmond felt his heart shrivel up and the hole in his chest start to yawn open wide.

Lucy's mouth twisted, she didn't want to do this. She knew how much he cared about her, he'd done everything the past six months to get back to her. The AI wouldn't tell him where Demeter was, and where Lucy was, until he'd done what he needed to do. "Flying numia is a strain for humans," she said, "and its worse for synthetics. I hurt myself flying the numia from Pluto to Demeter."

"They let you get hurt?" and for a second rage washed over him like a familiar balm, quenching his heart ache.

"Not on purpose," she said, "and they fixed me up, good as new." Desmond was about to call the lie when she said, "And while they were fixing the internal bleeding in my brain I asked Hera if she would…" her words failed her here. She swallowed before saying, "If she would undo what the proeathans had done."

"Done? What did they do?" he asked.

"I don't know what's real Desmond," she said, upset by this. "I have all these fake memories, ones I don't even know are real or not. I think they're Lucy's memories, but I don't know if they're real. I don't know if she really had a brother or grew up in Iowa or if her first day in Chicago scared her so badly she could barely leave her apartment for a week, or that she did love daisies over roses, or she ever… ever really felt anything for you," and Desmond just stared at her. "The proeathans gave me all these memories, all these emotions, and feelings. But I don't know if they're real. I still don't. So I asked Hera to at least try and fix that."

"And what did she do?" he asked, his voice soft, worn even though he wasn't tired, but he felt like someone had their hand inside his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart.

"I asked her if she could… make me not love you."

"Why?" he asked and wondered if he sounded as heart broken as he felt. By Lucy's face he knew, he did.

Lucy took a moment, breathed, "I have three and a half years to live," she said.

"What!" he cried and practically jumped over to her, she didn't stop him when he grabbed her arms. "What do you mean you have three and a half years to live?" anger and heartbreak gone, he was worried now.

"Synths aren't meant to stay around," she said. "Hera said I had four years left six months ago."

He hugged her, "I'm sorry," he said, holding her and she hugged him back. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I don't have as much time as I hoped I did," she kept talking, "but with that time. I need… to know its all me. I'm not her. Whatever I think or feel, or do, it has to be me," she pushed him away. "Which is why I can't just let the proeathans control what I think, what I feel."

He looked down at her and more than anything he wanted to make her feel better. But he didn't know how. He knew when faced with your own mortality, there wasn't much others could do. You had to face it, and you either accepted, or it destroyed you. Desmond had been letting his own mortality destroy him, running as hard and as fast as he could to the other side, to escape a mess he'd made. He'd learned to accept it though. He had this life, and he was going to do something important with it, something good. He wasn't going to let his legacy be the end of the human race.

"So now what?" he asked her, and held her arms once more.

"I… I don't know," she said and she bit her lips to stop them from trembling. "I never wanted to hurt you but I knew that if I couldn't tell where the proeathan programing ended and I began that's all I'd be doing. I didn't want to have that lie between me and the people I care about."

Desmond made sure his voice didn't shake when he asked, "Have you found someone else?" He was honestly surprised with how steady his voice was, and how absolutely dead it sounded.

"No," she shook her head, "I don't… talk to adults much anymore. They stare at me, and whisper. I can't handle that."

"Why? Why do they do that?"

She looked down and shook her head a bit, "Its a story for later," she said. "I know you love me, and I don't back," and hearing her say it like that made his heart ache. "But, I'm willing to give you a chance, like several of the others here have wanted."

"Others?" Desmond asked.

"I'm a pretty important girl, Desmond," and she smiled slightly, though it only touched her eyes, "but I'm not a prize to win, or to be given, for anyone. Even you," and wasn't that a low blow. "The proeathans made me for you-

"But I don't get a free pass?" he asked.

"No," she said.

He let her and took a step back, "Okay," he said slowly, "I think you should leave," he said.

"Desmond-

"_Lucy_," he didn't mean for it to sound sharp, but it did, "Sorry. Just… please leave."

"I'm sorry," she said, "I've never wanted to hurt you," she told him.

His mouth twisted and he held back an angry and hurt retort. She'd never hurt him, and now she was. "Please," he said. She nodded slowly before leaving.

Desmond sat on his bed and while they said nothing he had a feeling all the AI had been monitoring the conversation. He sat there for a few minutes in silence. "It could be worse," Venus suddenly said.

Desmond looked up at the ceiling, "Where's Hera?" he asked.

"Desmond I don't-

"_Where's_ Hera? Show yourself," he ordered and looked down as the masked woman appeared before him. She removed her plain mask, revealing her face, so like Juno.

"If you wish to be angry with us you may," she said, "But we have no regrets."

Desmond stood up slowly, he dwarfed her holographic form, which seemed to shrink in his presence. "What did you do to her?"

"What she asked of us," Hera said, looking up at him. "You may be the _stadalla _but she is more important to us than you, and her happiness is our greater concern."

"I just can't have anything easy can I?" he asked, to no one in particular.

"Life is not supposed to be easy, Desmond," Hera said. "Your life is a series of trials. You have yours, Lucy has hers. You are one of her trials and she decided to face it by giving herself a chance."

"A chance? A chance for what? To forget how she feels about me-

"How she _thought_ she felt about you," Hera said. "Before you left what she felt for you was… mostly fake," and he stared at her. "The proeathans _made_ her love you, but the real Lucy didn't have those strong of feelings for you. Its why she doesn't love you now, because she never did."

"Shut up," he said softly.

"She wanted live the remaining of her years on her own time, not on the proeathans."

"Which is also your fault."

"We gave her as much time as we could," Hera said, "Synthetics are temporary tools, or expensive toys, they are not meant to last."

Desmond just stared at her, his jaw clenched. He was angry. Angry and hurt and it wasn't _fair_. He was used to the world not being fair, his entire life was unfair. But this was just _mean_. He had sacrificed everything for this, criss crossed the world almost half a dozen times, run for his life, not slept in days, done the impossible and then some. For what? To come home and be told that one of the only things important to him that he wasn't important to them? The world was cruel, but he figured that _eventually_ he'd get a break. Just once, things would go his way.

"Desmond," Venus suddenly said.

"What?" he snarled, furious and hurt.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing… oh, oh, fuck." Nothing was happening but he knew it was affecting the AI. The marks on his skin were glowing, brightly, to the point he could see them even through his clothes a bit and out of the corner of his eyes as the ones on his cheeks and jaw glowed. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He couldn't let it get out of control. He had to keep it in check. He took a few deep breaths and willed his anger, his pain, his heartache, away. When he got emotional it made the glyphs glow and had… interesting effects on nearby proeathan and even human tech. If he didn't watch it it got the better of him. The proeathans had shown him how to instill control, to force his mind and his body to obey him, so it obeyed him. He was no longer a slave to his body and mind, he was in control.

The glowing dimmed.

"It could be worse for you Desmond," Venus said, before he could ask how she continued, "she isn't with anyone else. She'll give you a chance."

"And she was truthful when she said many would like such a chance," Pluto said. "Most men, and quite a large number of women, would like to have the company of the Angel of the Lake."

"The… what?" Desmond squinted.

Pluto chuckled, "We kept you abreast of most of the situation. But you missed a lot," he said, "You should ask about it."

Desmond sighed and sat down again, deflated. "I guess I just… am going to have to do what I always have to do then. Work for something that shouldn't be this fucking hard to get," he rubbed his face.

"She is not a prize," Hera said.

"I know," he said softly. "But sometimes you want good things in your life. I know that's hard to understand for you Hera," and she scowled at him. "And sometimes they shouldn't have to nearly kill yourself to get them."

None of them said anything, but Desmond knew they were there, watching him. "So what now?" Artemis asked.

"I'm going to win her back, obviously," he said, a bit insulted.

"Good," Artemis said cheerfully.

"Though that will have to wait," Demeter said. "You slept in that bath for a while. The Ilythians are here."

Desmond grunted and got to his feet, "Right," he said, "time to get to work," and left the room, pulling up his hood as he did.

* * *

><p>Heron cause you're still getting through PH rn but I haven't updated there in a bit, should tell you; most of the things you brought up, I'm already dealing withhave dealt with. Also how dare you give me more feels about daddytair.


	5. The Mockingbird Speaks

When Desmond arrived at the command center, different than the one he'd been led to the first time, it was in a coordinated frenzy. There were all manner of people at stations, working, looking at screens, talking. The large holo table in the center of the room showed a fleet of numia, all headed towards Demeter. No one noticed him when he entered which gave him time to slip away from the door and find someone who was actually in charge.

He found Altair rather quickly, standing close to the center, talking with a man Desmond didn't know. "There's no need for this level of excitement," Desmond said to Altair.

"There are over a hundred numia headed for Demeter right now, we couldn't contain it even if we tried," Altair said and turned back to the man. They were speaking in rapid French, then the man nodded, and left quickly. Altair beckoned and Desmond followed him away from the center and to the side where there was a smaller station of machines. Hawk was sitting at one, his eyes dancing across the screen. He looked up when Altair and Desmond neared.

"Mind telling us what's going on?" he asked Desmond.

"I told you," Desmond said, "I have an army coming to bolster our numbers."

Hawk sighed, "Everyone's freaking out and we don't know how to calm them down," he admitted. "There are some fear mongers in our ranks and it took them no time for the entire base to hear."

"So… no hiding it," Desmond said.

"Despite our best efforts," Hawk sighed.

"Then lets not hide it," Desmond pushed his hood back a bit, "Mercury, connect us to the proeathan flight communications," he said.

"Desmond, what are you doing?" Hawk hissed.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. I know what I'm doing," he said.

"I've established contact," Mercury said, "Just talk, they'll hear."

"Fantastic," and then he dug around in his brain for the Ilythian. Since he'd rapidly learned two tongues through the Bleeding Effect learning new languages was incredibly easy for him, much like learning to fight was. "Who's leading the fleet?"

"Ando Od," Mercury said.

"Right," Desmond cleared his throat, _"Demeter to Ando, do you copy?"_

"_This is Ando_," came the proeathan voice and it was played over the entire room. Everyone abruptly fell silent, all chatter and typing stopping, to listen.

_"We're anticipating you're arrival, Ando_," Desmond said, _"What is your ETA?_"

"_Five minutes_," or roughly so, proeathans didn't measure time the same way humans did. A proeathan minute was about half again as long as a human minute.

_"The hanger doors will be open,_" Desmond said.

_"Copy, Demeter. _We look forward to it," they said the last bit in English, their accent about as bad as Desmond's was in proeathan. It made a bunch of the humans nervous.

_"Don't make the humans unnecessarily anxious. They're already scared of the fleet_."

_"Right_, apologies," and Desmond smiled a bit, despite himself.

"_Copy. Out,_" Desmond said.

"What the fuck was that?" Hawk demanded as talking started again, this time with more than a thread of fear in it.

"Ilythian. Very… bad Ilythian," Desmond said.

"Ilythi-what?"

"Ilythian, its the language the Ilytha proeathans speak." Hawk and Altair just looked at him like he had two heads. "What? You can't expect all proeathans to speak the same tongue can you? Not even humans speak the same language," and he saw them both give him looks like yeah, he was right.

"Who are the Ilythians?" Hawk asked.

"A proeathan nation that are considered turn coats by the majority of the proeathans. There are just about thirty thousand of them left and they don't like the way the world is. They didn't like it while we were running it, but they don't like the new world order either."

"So an enemy of my enemy is my friend?" Altair asked.

"More of less," Desmond shrugged.

"Are they afraid of you?" Hawk asked.

"Petrified," he grinned, "I can't even be near one when they're alone. They only come near me in groups."

"And they agreed to come here, seriously? Into a box in the ground with you?"

"Enemy of my enemy is my friend," Desmond said, "The other proeathans are trying to kill or lock up the Ilythians," he said, "and probably attempt to reeducate them. Its me, or that. They're risking me."

"Nothing the proeathan do make sense," Hawk said, "They kill us to make themselves great, and they also… hunt their own species too do what?"

"Weed out dissent," Altair said, "Assassins do it all the time. The nail that sticks out gets hammered down." Desmond nodded. "And you're a mighty big nail, Desmond," he said.

He grinned, despite himself, "A bit, yeah," he agreed. "Now, we should go to the hanger, they aren't all going to be able to fit at once. These people know you, you need to calm them down, and keep them away. Can you do that?"

"Probably," Altair's mouth went thin a moment, "Scramble the minutemen," he told Hawk, "We'll need them to keep the other back so they don't crowd the hanger, or the numia."

"On it," Hawk said.

"C'mon, we should meet them there," Altair said and Desmond followed him out of the command center and down the hall. "So, you ever going to tell us what happened while you were gone?"

"One day," Desmond said, "We don't really have time for the full story right now though. I doubt we will till this is over."

"Right," and then Altair was quiet a moment. Desmond sensed he had something to say. "Did Lucy talk to you yet?"

"Yes," Desmond said lowly. Altair said nothing, "Nothing to say? No gloating?" he questioned.

"It isn't easy being in love," Altair said, "And I have no room to gloat."

"That's a first."

Altair gave him a look, "She's proved herself invaluable to us."

"You mean the whole Angel of the Lake thing? Which, by the by, what the fuck is that about?"

"I'll tell you later, promise, its a tale, much like your journey."

"Probably more exciting. Mine was… boring, until I met the Ilythians."

"Well now we're all going to meet the Ilythians," Altair said as they entered the main hanger with its great drop shaft that led up to Lake Chad. Above they could see a small winking blue eye that was the sky above from the hole in the lake created by Demeter opening her hanger doors. There was no one in the hanger just yet, at least no mortals. Standing nearly dead center of the hanger, looking up at the little speck of sky far above, was Cain. "Also, he's here."

"I know," Desmond said. The AI had told him, but as always they were secretive about what they'd given him for his services, his loyalty.

Cain looked at them as they approached, "Took you long enough," he said with a sneer.

"Some of us have more important things to do than gawk at nothing," Altair snapped.

Cain chuckled, "Its only nothing if you're looking in the wrong places," he said as minute men started to show up, armed as before as Desmond had seen them, Ezio with them. Clearly Ezio was their commander.

"Can't take my eyes off either one of you for five damn minutes without you biting at each other's ankles," Ezio said as the minute men formed up at the entrances of the hanger. He came over to them. "Play nice, or at least pretend to, for at least a few minutes?"

Cain smiled at Altair, "Shut up," Altair growled.

"I said nothing," Cain said, still smiling.

"Yeah but you were thinking it," Altair snapped.

"God," Desmond sighed, "both of you just shut up. Go sit in the corner or something. I so don't have time for your petty argument about the past anymore."

"Desmond he-

"You should listen to him," Cain said, "He's smarter than you. Not that that's exactly hard."

"_Cain_," Desmond turned hard eyes on him, "be quiet."

Cain pinched his thumb and forefinger together and drew it across his mouth like he was zipping it shut, but his smug smile never faltered. He was enjoying this. Well he could enjoy it and keep his damn mouth shut. Bad enough he had Altair around with his big head, he didn't need Cain's either. "Mercury, connect me back with the fleet," he said.

There was a brief pause, "_Base Demeter, this is Ando Od of the Starboard, do you copy?"_

_"Ando, this is Demeter, we copy_," Desmond said.

"_We see the lake. And the hole."_

_"Good, I trust you to know how to handle your own fleet in making sure they all land safely."_

_"Are there fivers around?"_

Desmond paused, fivers was what proeathans called humans, the same way some Americans had still called black people niggers. It was a jab at their senses, weaker than proeathans, and they had only five. Not like proeathans with their sixth sense who could train it to do anything from divination to being able to sense others around them, to even being able to predict the flip of a coin. And of course they had a robust, fully functioning, version of the Eagle Vision which when Desmond had heard of it made him feel so totally watered down. The proeathans trained their sixth sense to a fine point, so while they couldn't do everything, they could do one thing very well.

_"I'm a fiver,"_ Desmond snapped.

There was a long pause on the other end, _"Only just _stadalla_," _they said, _"Are there others there?"_

_"Yes. We'll talk again when you land. And try and not be a disrespectful group of _keens_ in my presence again_."

There was another long pause, though this time it held a wary air, "_Of course _stadalla. _Over. Out_."

"Fucking proeathans," Desmond growled.

"What'd he say?" Altair said.

"They're going to start descending," and Desmond looked up, the blue eye winked and closed as a shadow passed over it. Though not really a shadow, rather a numia. The eye didn't open, meaning the numia was descending.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Altair asked.

"It's the best one we got," Desmond said. "Once your army has learned a few more tricks from the Ilythians and how to fight against some of the things the proeathan army has to throw at us, we'll be moving on Atlantis."

"How long do you think that'll take?" Ezio asked.

"Few weeks if we're lucky," Desmond said. "You guys haven't seen the things the proeathans have. They have mechs."

"_Mechs_?" Ezio asked, eyes going wide.

"Yeah. Mechs, and these insane, mounted, nearly kamikaze two wheeled cavalry things. I've seen video of that and more in action-" he looked up when drops of water landed on them in a brief ran. "For the love of God I literally just changed," he sighed.

"What was that? Demeter?" Altair called.

"I had to widen my main doors," Demeter said, "I did not anticipate Artemis being so large."

"Did you just call me fat?" Artemis cried.

"Of course not," Demeter said.

"Good. Because I'm littler than you."

"Only on the outside," Demeter said.

"Ladies, please," Desmond said, "Bad enough we're going to have proeathans in here. I don't need fighting AIs along with fighting armies," he rubbed his forehead and felt some of a grooves burned into his skin.

"Yes Desmond," they said at the same time and fell silent.

"They listen to you," Altair said.

"Of course they do, I'm the _stadalla_," he said, like it was obvious.

"What's that?" Ezio asked.

"Their word for the Unnamed," Desmond shrugged, "its like one of the few words that all proeathan languages have in common, _stadalla_, along with… oh what _was_ it?" it was on the tip of his tongue.

"_Hotai," _Cain said.

"Yes that was it and _how_ do _you_ know that?" Desmond said, eyeing him.

Cain grinned, "I know a lot of things," he said. "Perhaps you'd like to hear them."

"That can wait, we need to move," Desmond said and glanced up. The great shadow was closer now and it wasn't a shadow at all. It was a _massive_ aircraft. Easily larger than any Boeing previously on the market, and like all the other numia Desmond had ever seen was elegant in its appearance, its shape perfectly curved and seamless. This numia was a pearly white color that seemed to shimmer in the light of the hanger.

They quickly got out of the way of the huge numia as it landed to rest gently on the ground. There was a low thud and then a panel in the side opened and a staircase was dropped down. A moment passed and then a tall man exited the numia and climbed down the staircase. Two more people followed and once they were on the ground the staircase rolled back up and the numia closed once more. There was a higher pitched droning noise and the numia lifted a dozen or so feet into the air and then near silently glided out of the main landing pad and deeper into Demeter's vast hanger.

The three people, proeathans really, came towards them. Desmond recognized all of them. They were all tall, taller even than him, with fine, raven wing, black hair, dirt colored skin, uncomfortably high cheekbones and large, yellow eyes. The man in front had a long face and a wide, downturned mouth, his nose small and elegant. The others was a man, lean through and through with skin that seemed too tight to his bones and shadowed eyes with a slightly protruding brow line, he'd plucked his eyebrows to non existence leaving only smooth, medium toned, skin behind. The third was a woman who was slender and without a single womanly grace to her name. She was built like and walked rather like a board with legs and had a sharp, cat-like, face, with an slightly cleft upper lip. For what reason Desmond didn't know, but it was better if you didn't ask with these people.

_"Stadalla_," the first man, with the frowning mouth, said. He hesitated and then reached out to shake Desmond's hand. Proeathans, Ilythians or otherwise, didn't shake hands like humans did. It was a strictly human custom as it was rude to insist on touching upon meeting someone, since you couldn't know how they'd trained their sixth sense and could very well be a touch sensitive empath. Different rules applied.

Desmond grabbed his hand firmly, "Od, _good to see you again_," he said, "_How was your flight_?"

"_Long_," he looked up as another numia arrived at the bottom of the great hanger, it didn't touched down though, merely hovered in the air and turned on its horizontal axis and followed the huge numia into the hanger proper. "_This will be going a while_," he said.

Desmond nodded, "Everyone," he said, "This is _Ando _Od Sighted, commander of the Ilythian fleet. These are his Firsts, _Sengar_s Inti Deft and Zorya Cun," he motioned first to the man, and then the woman, who both inclined their heads, knowing enough English to know they were being introduced. "_And this is some of the humans you'll be fighting with. This is _Ezio Auditore, Altair ibn La'Ahad,_ and… _Cain_."_

The three proeathans looked over at Cain, "_I thought you said there were only fiv- humans here," _Od said, not taking his eyes off Cain.

"_There are. You're the only _keens_ we've had down here,_" and Desmond was going to keep calling them keens every time they said or almost said fiver. Keen basically meant good for nothing, or talentless, someone who hadn't trained their sixth sense good enough and were thus useless in proeathan society. It was as bad a slur as fiver, but directed at proeathans instead of humans.

Od scowled at him, but got the hint. "Hmm," was all he said, "_Have they never seen a proeathan up close_?" he was looking behind Desmond's shoulder. Desmond turned and looked, and saw all the minutemen turned around, staring, eyes so wide he could see them even at a distance.

"Ezio, aren't your men more disciplined than that?" Desmond asked him.

"Oi!" Ezio suddenly cried, "You can gawk later! Right way round!" the minutemen all turned hastily. "Better?"

"Marginally," Desmond said. Numia were still descending and would for a while. The Ilythian fleet was huge, and they'd have to maneuver Artemis into place at Demeter's direction. "Do any of you have anything to add?" he asked Ezio and Altair.

"How well do they understand English?"

"Well enough," Od said, his accent utterly horrific. Desmond knew his Ilythian wasn't much better.

"Good, I'll use small words. None of us trust you. We've prepared a place for you, and you're to stay there unless we say. The humans and proeathans will be separate to avoid panic. Understood?"

Od gazed down at Altair, and for a moment his eyes turned blue, but it was only for a second before dying down. "Yes," he said. Od looked over at Desmond, "_You should teach your men better manners."_

_"Would if I could."_

_"Yes_," Od glanced at Altair, _"It is so hard to take the aggression out of your kind. But we will abide, we want refuge here just as much as you. When you call us _stadalla_ we will come."_

_"Good."_

_"Until that time however, I should go to oversee the movement of my fleet."_

_"Of course. We'll talk again soon," _Desmond said.

_"Of that, I have no doubt_," Od said and he motioned to his Firsts and turned to head towards the part of the hanger where all the numia were landing and expelling their cargo of proeathans.

"You trust them?" Altair asked.

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Why?"

"Because," Desmond said, "they saved me when I was going to die."


	6. Condor

alt chapter title: Exposition, its what's for dinner

Gonna be having a lot of exposition over the next few chaps. It's just something that has to happen. Lots of talk, little doing; it drives me crazy, I just wanna get to _that part_, you know the one, the one I am **_super excited__ about_**.

* * *

><p>"Say that again," Altair said, of course he did.<p>

"They saved me," Desmond said. "On my way through India I ran out of food and was starving. I went to sleep one night and woke up to a bunch of Indians who thought I was a proeathan. I don't know what they were saying, but I was going to get lynched. I think I was in their safe zone or something and they were scared and I was a big, tall, being wearing proeathan clothes with proeathan weapons. Didn't matter I don't really look proeathan. Normally I would have just fought them off but I was too tired, too weak.

"They were about to put the rope around my neck and hang me when Od and the other Ilythians came. They didn't hurt any of the people, but their presence scared them all away. They could handle one proeathan, but an entire group? They took me onto the Starboard and fed me."

"You just ate food proeathans gave you? It could have been poisoned," Ezio said critically.

"I hadn't eaten in like a week and a half. I honestly didn't give a shit," Desmond said. "Artemis and Mercury were freaking out the entire time up till… this point actually. They fed me and then let me go with a few MREs."

"Bull shit," Ezio said.

"No, really," Desmond said. "The Ilythians are, for the most part, total pacifists."

"But they're joining a war cause," Altair said blandly.

"Pacifism is different for proeathans," Desmond explained. "For us it is no war, no violence, and do not hurt anyone or anything. For proeathans it is more like… well, exactly how the Assassins do. Peace through death," Altair's eyes narrowed. He didn't like being compared to the proeathans. Well tough shit, they were a lot alike. "And like I said, they don't like how the proeathans are running the show now, but they weren't so fond of how the humans were either."

"So then what do they like?" Altair asked, irritably. Still not happy to have just been compared to proeathans. Again; tough shit.

"They want to live, and live peacefully. They aren't as horribly spiciest as most proeathans are, they know humans aren't that bad. They just are young and don't know what they're doing. Apparently the proeathans almost destroyed themselves through climate change and wars too. But they figured it out. Humans progressed too quickly technology wise without thought of how it should actually be used and we were going to probably destroy ourselves, or wipe out half the planet."

"Instead the proeathans did that for us," Ezio said bitterly and then flinched, clearly he hadn't meant to say that. "Uh…"

"What?" Desmond asked.

"Were we telling him?" Ezio asked Altair guiltily.

"Tell me what?" Desmond asked.

Altair sighed a little, and rubbed his chin, "The actual, estimated, death toll."

"I know," Desmond said and swallowed. "There's like seven hundred thousand of us left; on a high estimate."

"You know?" Altair asked.

"I told you; I know a lot of what's been going on. The Ilythians, after I left them, followed me, probably to make sure I wouldn't accidentally die like I almost did before. After a few days I just stopped and tried to communicate with them. They could help me. After the initial language barrier was mostly taken care of I learned a lot about what's going on with the other proeathans and the situation with our species. I know you know about the 'seed banks', as the proeathans call them."

"The what?" Ezio asked.

"The children. Which, by the way, what did you do with them?"

"They're here," Altair said.

"All of them?"

"All of them. Lucy wouldn't let us leave a single one behind."

Desmond rocked back onto his heels, honestly floored. The proeathans apparently didn't know what had happened to the children. They shouldn't have lived outside their pods. "They're alive?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't they be?" Altair asked. Desmond blinked. "Is that bad? Is there something we should know about them?"

"No," Desmond said, "No its fantastic. I know the main seed bank in Siberia now has more security though, so what'd happened to the plantations can't happen there."

"…Main one?" Altair asked.

Desmond rubbed his face. There was just so much to tell and he was still so tired. "We'll talk about it later-

"Desmond-

"We'll talk about it _later_," Desmond told him, his tone hard, almost mean, but in control. _He_ was in control here. Not the proeathans, not Altair, not anyone else. He'd played the good soldier like Pluto had accused him of six years ago, always doing as ordered, even when he didn't know he was doing it. But now he was directing his destiny. He knew where he had to go, what he had to do, but he'd do it on his time table, his schedule, and on his say. He was tired of being treated like he wasn't even there. No more running around on other people's prerogative to do this, or do that, or Desmond you better figure this out or the entire world is going to get bent over and fucked. No more. He mattered. What he wanted _mattered_. He wasn't going to let anyone tell him what to do anymore.

Altair frowned, but said nothing. "Back to what I was saying about the Ilythians," Desmond continued. "I talked to them, learned a lot of stuff, including how much they… kinda hate the other proeathans and think they're doing a super _A plus_ _job_ at their second time on Earth," he said sarcastically. "They wouldn't let me fly in their numia though. I make them too nervous. So. I had to keep walking. But they landed every night and I figured stuff out, learned stuff I needed to learn you weren't telling me," he said.

"Desmond you know we were just-

"I know," Desmond cut Ezio off. "You were protecting me. But… I can't have you doing that any more. I spent a few months being a self pitying bastard before I left because you were protecting me from the truth. So instead of getting to hear the truth as numbers or figures I could digest, I had to see it first. And now… I know," he took a deep breath. "I know what I did."

"You were just doing what you thought was right," Ezio said.

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Desmond said. He didn't let himself sink into it though. He didn't let it consume him like he had so many times before. He was able to get up, move forward. He wouldn't get mired in his self pity, his self loathing. He had _way_ too much to do for that right now, and it didn't help anyone, including him. "Doesn't matter what I intended. This is what I have to deal with."

"So what's going to happen now?" Altair asked.

"I'm going to go to bed," Desmond said. "And tomorrow I'm going to talk to Od about teaching your army proeathan tactics. I know you have Pluto but he's… out of date."

"I heard that," Pluto chimed in from the nothing.

"You are," Desmond said. "The proeathans have humans working for them. Humans who know how to fuck up other humans. They've changed proeathan warfare. So, we need to change too. It shouldn't be too difficult, if you guys," he meant his ancestors and the Assassins, "have been training them I'm sure it'll be an easy transition."

"You expect these people to follow proeathan orders? Desmond they're terrified and _hate_ proeathans," Altair said.

"I expect them to do what needs to be done so our species isn't obliterated," Desmond said. "I'm not about to tell your men to do anything. They're your men, they know you, trust you, respect you. I'm not stupid enough to think I can just show up and expect them to listen to me. But you will."

Altair rubbed his eyes. "Okay, so what exactly are you expecting."

"Who are your trainers?" Desmond asked.

"The Assassins," Altair said, "we have some actual military minds from amid the former slaves, and a number of martial arts masters, some marksmen et cetera. We've given them officer ranks. They lead most of our units."

"Then those are the people who will be training with the Ilythians. Just them. Tell them nothing is going to go sideways. If it helps, tell them they're scared of _me_, and I'll be there, for every session. And," he sort of laughed here, "You'll see for yourself how much actual proeathan are scared of me. It took me _weeks_ to convince them to train me."

Altair opened his mouth, "We'll talk about it later. I promise," he said. "Just not… right now. I just walked across the sahara carrying like fifty pounds. I want to eat, sleep, and not do anything for like thirteen hours. Think you can manage to keep everyone alive and not at each other's throats for thirteen hours?"

"Yeah, I think we can manage that," Altair said.

"Good," Desmond said. He looked up at the numia, still descending. "Do you want me to stay and monitor this?" he asked.

"No," Ezio said before Altair could say anything. He grabbed Desmond by the shoulder. "You're right kid, you deserve a few hours of rest to not have to deal with _all_ this. You let me, and Altair, and Hawk, worry about these children for a bit. You get some grub and get some sleep."

"Fantastic," Desmond said.

"Also, don't go near Clay," Ezio added.

"Why?" Desmond frowned.

"He… kinda hates you?" Ezio said, half apologetic.

"What? Why?" Why the hell would Clay hate him? He'd only met Clay once, and hadn't left his island in bad spirits.

"Well you kinda did exactly what he didn't want to happen and rose Atlantis. Which is basically the worst thing you could have done."å

"Yeah, probably," Desmond agreed. "But it needed to be done. The other choice was to travel under the surface of the earth, somehow, and tunnel into the pocket the city was in. Raising it was the more logical choice."

"Also apparently you're like the dang antichrist or some shit."

Desmond's brows went up, "Won't find any argument here. Now, food, and bed for me. Keep your people away from the hanger. Demeter will find a place for the Ilythians. _Away_ from the humans, promise. Don't set anything on fire and I'll see you in a few hours. Deal?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ezio agreed. Desmond nodded, made sure his hood covered most of his face, and then walked out of the hanger, past the minutemen who looked like they were using every ounce of will they had to not look at the landing numia. They'd get all the eyefuls of the Ilythians than wanted once the two sides were more amicable to each other. When that would be Desmond had no freaking clue, but that wasn't his problem. Filling his stomach was.

* * *

><p>For the record: you guys are way worse to Desmond than me. Its like you <em>want<em> him to have a sad ending where he dies alone. With the way things are going I might just rewrite the entire end so he does. Just to spite you with the good ending I have planned XD

Also I think someone mentioned something about the proeathans being disadvantaged cause they lost "so many" important AIs. Meanwhile I'm looking at my notes of just what all the AIs actually _do_ and like… lols, no, not disadvantaged at all.


	7. Strength of the Raptor

I'm going to break some of your brains with this one kekekekekekekekekekeke

also, give Des some credit guys, srsly

* * *

><p>As Desmond had thought when Altair had told his men to do something, they did something. Apparently there had been some complaining because Altair wanted them to train with proeathan? But apparently training had won out and now here they were.<p>

There were about a hundred officers in their little army, including his ancestors, Jake and Lucy on one side of the big room Demeter had given them. He also recognized Shaun in their ranks and, of all people, his father, though he knew Andrew couldn't be able to do most of the training. He was probably here for the theory. Standing next to Shaun was Rebecca, but she didn't seem to be here to fight, more like offer moral support? For Shaun maybe? Who knew, maybe she was here to kick ass.

On the other side of the room was nearly twice as many Ilythians, with Od at the head along with his seconds. He recognized a few, but many of the Ilythians he knew weren't here. These were their battle masters, their trainers, their most seasoned veterans, to train the little human army. Desmond had mostly known the teachers, ones who'd told him what he'd needed to know, and could speak in some human language he could understand.

Desmond wasn't standing with either group, but not in the middle either. He was off to the side, still dressed in dark grays, his body almost totally covered except for his face. He'd gotten enough eyefuls from some of the other humans the last two days to make him just want to put a bag over his head. He didn't though. It would just draw yet more attention to him, attention he didn't want.

Once the people had finished gathering in the training room Altair went over to the Ilythians. Desmond peeled himself off the wall and followed after him.

Od looked down at the both of them as they approached, "How good's your English?" Altair asked him, not batting an eye at the proeathan who could have been their slaver.

"Fair," Od said in his horrible accent and glanced at Desmond with a touch of nervousness when he stood next to Altair. He might have known these proeathans for about three months, but he still made them nervous. They were truly afraid of him, though Desmond didn't quite get why. He'd told them over and over again he wasn't going to hurt them if they didn't hurt him. It had everything to do with what he was in their mythos though. The end times were upon them in his shape and they were terrified.

"Okay. So how are we going to do this?" Altair asked him.

"My masters wish to evaluate your skills," Od said.

"Meaning?"

"We will fight you. We don't expect anyone except for Desmond to put up much of a fight though."

Altair's eyes narrowed dangerously, "Why's that then?" he growled.

"These proeathans trained their sixth sense for anticipation," Desmond said since Od just looked frustrated with Altair. "Quite literally they can see the blow almost before its coming."

"I've never had a problem fighting other proeathans," Altair said.

"Normal soldiers do not have these skills," Od said, trying to be patient but clearly thought Altair was an idiot for not understanding instantly like Desmond. "We wish to see your hand to hand as well as shooting abilities since the Adjetevs use both in their military."

"Adjetevs?" Altair was totally lost now and again Od looked frustrated.

"The main proeathan force," Desmond said quickly. "They sort of run everything. The Ilythians are just one of the smaller subgroups of proeathans who got to go into stasis. But the Adjatevs were the ones who built all the bases, most of the proeathans out there are Adjetevs. Like, if the Americans built a bunker to survive nuclear war and then allowed parts of other countries to stay with them for a while," he said, putting it into easier terms.

"How many 'other countries' are there?" Altair asked Desmond.

"Seven," he said, "and then the Adjatevs makes eight. Half of sixteen; holy number." Altair growled wordlessly, he hated the fucking proeathans. Desmond nearly laughed. "Most just do what the Adjetevs say because they saved them during the last war."

"And now they don't?" he shot an angry look at Od.

"The Ilythians do not keep slaves," Od said very calmly. Desmond knew Od was rarely rustled. He'd get sort of frustrated with a 'dumb fiver' but he'd never let it affect him. "Then, or now. It goes against our belief that all creatures should be allowed to chose for themselves," and Altair's face grew dark. He didn't like that the Ilythians had the same philosophy of him, as the Assassins. "Obedience should be given, not taken. The Adjetevs do not ask for obedience, they demand it, and we were quite tired of that," he said.

Altair took a deep breath and then said, "Very well. How do you want my men to prepare for this evaluation?"

"Make sure they are ready to fight, whatever that means for you, and split them into sixteen groups. We shall do the same. My men are very eager to see what your side can provide us, we have never seen humans fight before."

"Fine," Altair said shortly and turned on his heel and stalked off. Desmond followed.

"You don't have to be so mad," Desmond said. "I thought you'd like the Ilythians. They basically follow your exact code of honor."

Altair glared at him, "A proeathan has my exact code of honor. Yes, I love it," he said sarcastically.

"Grow up," was all Desmond said, with a roll of his eyes.

They arrived back at the group of humans and Altair did as Od had said, having his people split into sixteen groups by counting off, so no one would just be with friends. Desmond followed him as he went through the group, assigning them numbers.

Then they came to one.

"What are you doing here?" Altair growled at Cain.

Cain's smile was mischievous. "I'm here to take part, what else would I be here for?"

"I'm not putting you with my men," Altair said.

"That's okay. I'll just be in group seventeen with the kid," and he winked at Desmond. Desmond couldn't help but find it amusing. Altair scowled at the both of them.

"You will not-

"Its fine," Desmond said. "I'm not going to be in a group anyway. The fighting masters know what I can do. So you get to be in seventeen all by yourself, Cain," Desmond said.

Cain laughed at that, "Oh I like him Abel. He reminds me of you before you became so petty."

Altair looked like he was about to throw a punch but Desmond pushed Altair away, to the next person who was given a number. Once the sixteen groups were made, each with six members, except for two which had seven, Altair told them to get ready to fight. So the groups split apart and went to limber up, stretch, and get in the zone. Across the room the Ilythians were doing much the same.

Desmond joined a group at random, giving them a seventh member. They looked at him with frowns. "Hi," he said cheerfully, "I'm Des, don't mind me," and he sat, and bent over his legs to grab the bottoms of his feet with the rest of them. Once they saw he wasn't going to do anything they continued their stretches in order.

Then when they were done Desmond left the group. Od was coming over to them. Altair got there a few seconds before he did. "-my men will join each of your groups. They will test their skills. I've made sure each group has someone who can speak English in it, is that fair?"

"Yeah, some of our members don't speak English though," Altair said.

Od frowned, "Why not?"

"They just don't," he said. "Most can understand part of it at least. One of our men only speaks Swahili."

"How do you communicate?"

"I speak Swahili," Altair said.

"Then you'd best be in his group. None of us know such a language. We know English, because the Stadalla does."

"And some really old Italian and Arabic but that isn't going to help anyone but you, Jake, and Ezio," Desmond added.

Altair shot him a look, but though he looked about to explode with questions, he said nothing. "Fine," he said.

"I will send my men over. Make sure none of them," he sighed here, "make sure they don't scream."

"Why would they?"

"Humans tend to do that when they see us. It is very… aggravating to us. Humans have a very piercing scream."

"Right," Altair said and rolled his eyes. Od left. Altair told his men what was going to happen and the groups naturally spaced themselves out a bit.

A group of twelve proeathans approached and went to one of the human groups. Desmond, and probably every one else, could feel the tension when they first approached. And then, to everyone's amazement, within twenty seconds, a human laughed. The Ilythians gave one of their own a clearly annoyed look, they'd said something stupid clearly. But the laughter snapped the tension right in half. The now larger group moved away from the others. The room was big enough to house everyone comfortably with room to spare.

After the first one went the others came, just one or two groups at a time. Clearly the Ilythians didn't want to scare the humans by having a large number of them come at once. Desmond thought that was rather smart on Od's part. But then, Od was Ando for a reason, kinda came with the territory.

Finally the last proeathan group joined the last human group. There was fighting already going on, controlled rounds clearly. Desmond watched them, standing outside of the groups. Not a single human won, and few made it past half a minute with the Ilythian masters. But there was no hard victory. The Ilythian master would look down at them, cock their head to the side, their eyes flash a brilliant, pale, blue, and then they'd step back.

Desmond joined a random group. The Ilythians noticed instantly and they all, even the one in the middle of a fight, turned to him and inclined their shoulders to him. Well damn. "Odikais stadalla," they said in greeting, one or two touching their first two fingers to their lips. The humans looked horribly confused and peered at Desmond, trying to figure out who he was. He didn't know a single one of them.

The fight ended almost as soon as it restarted. The Ilythian master helped the woman up and she stepped back. "Would you like a boute, stadalla?" the translator asked, his accent even worse than Od's.

"Only if you stop calling me that," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Apologies," he said.

"Sure then," and Desmond pushed his hood off, it'd do no good in a fight but make it hard to see. The master bowed to him, and he bowed back. Then he fell back into a fighting stance he knew they hated.

Desmond was good at fighting. He always had been. He'd always wanted to be like Duncan though, a pacifist. But it never worked out. Desmond was, in short, a natural and took to fighting forms like a fish to water. Even before the end of the world he was leaps and bounds above anyone else with just a few hard months of training under three Master Assassins because his body had never really forgotten the forms he'd been taught as a boy. And he'd never forgotten the street fighting he'd learned while on the road or the brief time he'd taken up kick boxing. He'd been too good at it, it'd scared him, so he'd stopped. He always told himself he didn't want to fight, that there was something wrong with him because he loved it so much, was so good at it, found it so easy.

He didn't think that anymore. He had a natural inclination, and when he stopped fighting against it, it made him amazing. He'd tried so hard to be bad at fighting, at shooting, at being anything but a pacifist who only fought to defend himself. Now he was what he always should have been, a warrior. He took bits and pieces of all the styles he'd learned as a kid and in the cities and in the Animus, and now from the Ilythians and twisted them together in a way that made the Ilythian masters irritated with him. It made him hard to predict, made him hard to hit, and thus, hard to beat. It didn't help that he was fast.

The master eyed him, Desmond eyed him back, not looking at his eyes, but at his hips. Ilythians martial arts led with the legs and hips, and was mostly airborne, with lots of jumps and flips. The hands weren't as dangerous as the legs, which could be around your neck in an instant. The trick was to either not let them get airborne, or to fly with them.

Desmond went into Eagle Vision as the master lunged forward, clearing four feet in the air, his foot aimed at Desmond's throat. But Desmond wasn't there, he had already dodged. The Ilythians knew to not go easy on him, if they went easy on him; they lost. But then what good was being a warrior savant if you lost? Desmond kicked, but missed. Most of the next few tries by both of them were misses, neither of them being able to be quite unpredictable enough to throw the other off.

They separated and Desmond's eyes were past Eagle Vision now. He knew now, from talking with the Ilythians, that this was the sixth sense. It should have been impossible for humans, but if he could see himself in a mirror he'd see his eyes were ice blue, the same as the master he was fighting. There was a weird haze around the master, all the places he could go in the next second. Desmond was seeing the potential of something. He knew the master was looking at him the same way. The trick was, when both fighters could see like this, to make the least likely move and deciding anything had to be done on a synapse rapid level or they'd see it and be able to dodge or block.

Desmond was still deciding what to do when he saw, nearly too late, the master go to move. They dodged right but their shadow moved left and Desmond moved right and forward, throwing out his arm. He clotheslined the master sending them tumbling to the floor, Desmond's arm throbbing from the impact. They flipped to their feet quickly though and Desmond had to guess if he was going to jump or lunge forward. He dodged left just to be on the safe side, but he was there and Desmond jumped back. The master followed, leading with several kicks aimed at his face.

He managed to grab one even as it was cocked back, we went with the leg and used it and his momentum to bowl the master over. Now it was a grappling match and the master was finished. Ilythian forms had few grapples and holds, the point was to never get hit in the first place. So when Desmond got him in a bind he tapped out quickly.

Desmond got to his feet breathing hard, a bit of sweat on his brow. Using the sixth sense and fighting at the same time was still new to him and left him more tired than just normal fighting. The master seemed pleased, even with his loss. The people around them were staring at him in wonder. "You won," someone said.

"Yeah, I tend to do that," Desmond shrugged.

"Who are you?"

"No one terribly important," he said.

"How'd you do that?"

"Oh I'm just that good. Like Altair, I bet he's gonna beat someone too. And excuse me," Desmond beat a quick retreat, not wanting more questions. No one followed. The Ilythians were talking sort of excitedly though and he heard a few proud tones, though he wasn't sure if they were for him, or the master who'd lost.

Desmond went to find another group, far enough away that his fight hadn't been seen. He joined a group and saw it had Rebecca and Shaun in it. When the Ilythians turned to him he just held up a hand, "Don't even. Not in the mood," he said in Ilythian. The Ilythians shrugged, but obeyed.

Desmond watched them fight the humans. Everyone got their ass handed to them, though to his surprise Rebecca lasted the longest. It was like she was covered in oil and the Ilythian she was fighting couldn't seem to get a hit to stick or get her hands on her. As he watched he felt someone come up behind him. He turned to see; it was Cain.

"What do you want?" he asked Cain. The circle ignored them, watching the fighting.

"You have a sixth sense," he said simply, staring at Desmond intently with his wolf blue eyes.

"Wanna make something of it?"

Cain cocked his head at Desmond, "No," he said. "I simply find it interesting. Its almost like you're becoming more proeathan," he smirked and stepped away. Desmond felt himself follow, his feet seeming to move without his consent. "Speaking their language, wearing their clothes, using their weapons," he glanced down at Desmond's wrist. Desmond tugged the sleeve over the thick, black, bracelet he wore down, to hide it. "Covered in their marks," his eyes scanned Desmond's scarred face. "You're as tall as them, can fight like them and now... now you see like them," that made him pleased for some reason.

"This have a point?" Desmond growled.

"Maybe you should rethink your desires, boy," he said.

"And what do you know of my desires?" Desmond asked.

"I think it was something about killing every proeathan? Tell me, does that include your new friends?" he looked over Desmond's shoulder at the Ilythians and nodded in their direction. "Or maybe yourself? You're practically one as it is."

Desmond frowned deeply at him, "I don't want that anymore," he said.

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

Desmond looked away and like his eyes were attached to the back of her head Desmond found Lucy's sole blond hair in the entire room. Cain followed his gaze and Desmond looked away. He couldn't want that, or rather, he didn't want to want it. It was painful. He wouldn't make it uncomfortable by trying to push himself on her, so he was trying to put distance between them, so if she wanted his company she wanted it, and not just thought she did out of pity. Desmond didn't want pity. The idea of her being with him because he couldn't let go of him (not that she'd ever do that, but the thought had crossed his mind) made him feel wretched. So he was just going to let it happen, organically, and try to be the kind of guy she wanted, instead of the kind of guy she was expected to be with.

"Ah," Cain said with understanding. "Good luck with that," he added

Desmond narrowed his eyes at Cain, "What's it to you?"

"I like her," Cain said, "She's a nice girl, and you don't deserve her in the slightest," Desmond glared at him.

"So what, you're buddies now or something?"

"No," Cain said. "But we both can appreciate the company we keep, away from critical, or many, eyes. You see her now, but you didn't see her the past five months. Can barely leave her room, can barely eat in public. The Angel of the Lake is a powerful symbol."

"What is that? No one's told me," Desmond said.

"The first plantation they took, she went in unarmed, and walked right past all the security. When she came out she did so with the children from the seed bank, and the plantation had been taken. She didn't do it herself of course, but rumors popped up, stories started. If you want to believe the common folk she's immortal and cannot be seen by the proeathans, also she has wings and eyes made of blue fire," Desmond laughed at that. "She's a symbol of hope for them, because she really did walk into every proeathan plantation by herself, unarmed, and kill the Overseers."

"Why would they bother her so much though?"

"What would you do if you were in the presence of your savior?" he asked.

"I wouldn't know," Desmond said, "I was sort of under the impression that was me," he said, unimpressed with the entire savior thing as a whole.

Cain chuckled, "But no one will ever know you, will they?"

"That's the hope," Desmond said.

"Then imagine, if you would, if Christians today could go back and meet Jesus. What do you think would happen?" Desmond frowned angrily. "Exactly," Cain said, seeing Desmond understood. "She still doesn't go out where the common people will see her. She's the only blonde in all of Demeter, and she doesn't like to be stared at."

"I can imagine," Desmond frowned. He wished he could change that. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

"So remember that when you try to get what you want, boy," Cain said.

"I'm not going to 'get' anything," he said irritably. "You're right, I don't deserve her. If I want something, I need to earn it."

"Good," Cain said, "Because she's important. More than you can even imagine."

"No, I can," Desmond said. Cain cocked his head to the side. "She's important to me. More than anything. All I've wanted to do was be near her again, talk to her. So trust me, not going to screw this up."

Cain smiled a little, "Good." And then they both looked at someone's yell nearby. "And there he goes," Cain sighed as they both watched Altair launch himself to his feet and demand a rematch of the Ilythian who'd beat him. "Never changes," Cain's voice was... fond. Desmond looked at him for a few seconds before going over to Altair's group so he didn't kill the Ilythian master by accident.


	8. Updraft

terribly sorry I've been away so long. Suffered a horrendous writing slump I'm still recovering from about a month and a half ago because of real life stuff. Hopefully it doesn't linger much longer.

* * *

><p>The marksmanship evaluation went over much better than the hand to hand evaluation. All the Ilythian masters stood back, watching, eyes blue, a few took notes. The humans took turns in groups shooting various proeathan weapons and the few human weapons they had.<p>

The Ilythians were fascinated with the human weapons. Proeathan firearms were gauss rifles, meaning they worked via magnets and electro magnetism. Or something. It might as well have been magic to Desmond. The ammo thusly was non explosive. Human ballistics were insanely different obviously. They didn't have enough ammo for them to waste on everyone getting to shoot the human rifles though. So only their top marksmen got to use them and show off to the Ilythians who were very much impressed. It helped ease the tension even more, to see the tall, stoic, Ilythians seem so fascinated by a human rifle.

Desmond stood back with the Ilythians, watching. He wasn't participating, as usual, simply keeping an eye out. The Ilythians kept a respectful distance from him, but didn't allow him too close, and definitely not close enough to touch them, even accidentally. Touching him a fight was one thing, but doing so here would have been unthinkable to them.

He was surprised when he saw Shaun was good with a gun. He always boasted to have killed someone, before everything went to shit. Desmond had always suspected it was a lie to make himself feel better about being an Assassin. But seeing Shaun now, eye looking down the T sight, he knew the red head (only red head in Demeter too) had probably actually done it. He could tell by the way Shaun grimaced when he sighted up and pulled the trigger but didn't flinch or blink when the gun fired. Whoever Shaun had killed it hadn't been pretty, it had been messy and personal. Desmond made a mental note to talk to him, and Rebecca. He still owed Shaun the rest of that story he'd started in Mexico. Of course he probably knew by now.

Rebecca however, was awful. She didn't like weapons still it seemed, never had honestly. At least that hadn't changed. She shook when she put the rifle up to her shoulder and fired, blinking each time she pulled the trigger. Her shots always went wide. She seemed afraid of the weapon. Which was good honestly. Guns were dangerous, deadly, and not for the weak hearted. He didn't know if Rebecca was still as optimistic as she had been the last time he'd really seen her. At least Desmond hoped her spirit wasn't too beaten down.

He didn't look when Lucy shot. He didn't want to look. Didn't want to see. He wasn't ready to really look at her, or talk to her face to face.

When he turned away he saw someone watching him and scowled. It was his _father_. But Andrew wasn't looking at the soldiers shooting, he was looking at him. "What?" he asked shortly.

"Hello, son," Andrew said calmly and Desmond felt suddenly so uncomfortable like he just wanted to crawl out of his skin. For the first time it felt like Andrew was looking _at him_ and not just through him. It made him feel oddly self conscious for the old man to be looking at him the same way he looked at some task he was interested in.

"What do you want?" Desmond asked and crossed his arms across his chest. He hadn't been avoiding Andrew, but they hadn't been near each other and frankly Desmond wanted to keep it that way. He didn't need or want Andrew around him because he'd do what he always did and marginalize Desmond, push him away, and make him unimportant. And Desmond didn't know how to deal with his father when he did that. His first instinct was to be angry, because that was easy, and something his father actually responded to, usually with anger in return. But he wasn't that guy any more. He was in control, of himself and this situation. He wasn't going to let his father see that old, angry, child, he'd been before. The world deserved better than that.

"You look good," Andrew said and that sent Desmond so sideways it was like he'd been hit by a semi going sixty. Andrew didn't give out compliments unless you did something to please him. "You look like an adult," and Desmond honestly had no idea how to respond to that. And he wasn't even being his normal snide self to Desmond either, or like he was tired with Desmond's existence, tired of the burden Desmond was as his son.

"I am an adult," Desmond said.

"Well now you look like one," and there it was. That jab. Before he'd been a child, stupid, not to be trusted with important information or missions. Now, now after thirty fucking _years_ Desmond 'was an adult'.

Desmond just turned away from him, he didn't want to talk to his father, he didn't want to look at him, he didn't want to breathe the same air he was breathing. Andrew could just drop dead as far as he cared. A few of the Ilythians looked at him questioningly, they didn't know English, but Desmond gave away nothing. He just stood and watching the rest of the officers shoot, and ignored Andrew, who seemed to realize he wasn't welcome, because he didn't try and talk to Desmond again.

The shooting ended and the Ilythians talked amongst themselves before one went over to Od and spoke to him, who spoke to Altair. Then Altair was telling everyone they could leave, which seemed to relieve many people. Both species filed out of the room, going their own directions, back to their own people, the Ilythians though moved in huddled groups, talking rapidly with quick hand gestures, clearly already planning the training they'd be giving the officers. The only ones left were those in charge.

"So how was that?" Altair asked Od once nearly everyone had left.

"My men were impressed. We've never seen humans fight, most of them just run," and Altair wasn't the only one who scowled at that. Ezio and Shaun shared the look as well. "It will take a day or so to decide on how best to teach you. They must decide what is the best way to teach those without the sixth sense."

"Is it really so different?" Jake asked.

"Imagine trying to explain a color to someone who can't see," Od said. "You do not see like us, you do not understand the world like us because you simply cannot, you didn't evolve that way. That is what my men must figure out how to do, you have no sense as an advantage like we do. Well… most of you," he glanced at Desmond, his ancestors, though seemed to be avoiding even looking at Cain who was lingering though no doubt Altair didn't want him around. "And wish to test to see who does have the ability you refer to as Eagle Vision. Those who have the capacity must be trained to activate it at will and trained in how to use it as it will be invaluable when we move on Atlantis."

"How will you test that?" Altair asked.

"Demeter will need a blood sample. Say what you want to your men, but _all_ humans must be tested. Even if they don't wish to fight there are areas of our technology, even here in Demeter, that cannot be accessed without seeing it properly, which you _can't_ see properly because you haven't been trained how to look."

"Okay," Altair said, "we'll make it happen. It might take a few days, its a lot of people."

"That's fine. Test your officers first, so those who have it can begin training first and can help those later on."

"Very well."

"That is all I have for you," Od said. He looked over at Inti and gave him a little nod.

The other Ilythian spoke, he did so rarely, letting Od or Zorya do the talking. His accent was so thick he was nearly unintelligible. "It is just summer now," he said and it was a stream of words all strung together without seemingly any breaks, "our kin are busy making sure they've have enough food in Atlantis and the other bases to last through the winter when the snows come. But once they do come, they will turn their eyes towards Africa." He grimaced and looked at Od pleadingly, why did his Ando make him speak this tongue to these humans? Desmond grinned to himself. Od said nothing and Inti continued.

"They don't know where Demeter is, but they can triangulate a general position of the northern portion of the continent as you've only attacked plantations in the north and not the great orchards to the south. The fleet makes semi regular passes across the continent as I'm sure you're aware of. Once the winter comes their passes will become more frequent and attempts to leave Demeter will our own fleet will become difficult. We _must_ leave Demeter before the last of the temperate plantations are harvested. Or we will never make it to Atlantis."

"So when's that?" Ezio asked, "What's our time table?"

"The middle of fall," Inti said. "Mmm, I believe you call it 'Halloween'?"

"So we have till the end of October, and it's nearly the end of May now. So a little over four months to get ourselves ready," Altair said.

"Yes," Inti said, "but if we can do it faster it would be optimal. Catch the Adjatevs while they are trying to stockpile, and have their fleets scattered across the globe bringing resources to Atlantis."

"So three months," Altair said.

"Is best," he said.

Altair sighed and rubbed his mouth and looked at the others. "We'll make it work. We have a sixth month head start on those who've never fought before. We'll be ready in three, four at the max. Early to mid October."

"Good," Inti said and looked at Od, who nodded again and Inti seemed greatly relieved he didn't have to talk anymore.

"That is all we have for you," Od said. "You know what we need of you and we know what you want of us. Once you've tested your men for Eagle Vision we will begin that training _immediately_, while we sort out the rest of the training regiment."

"Fine," Altair said shortly.

"Good day," Od inclined his head to them, "_Peace stadalla_," he added to Desmond and then he, Inti and Zorya walked away, the same way their men had gone.


	9. Ocular

Yes the beginning chapters are kinda heavy on the exposition. I have a lot of information to get through so I don't have to do it later. Also I forgot to mention; but omg you guys were so cute with your top ten list. And it made me really happy to see my ZS OCs on like basically every single one quq

and in other news I have strep through it's _fantastic_

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><p>Desmond kept to himself in the big, cafeteria style, communal eating area. He just wanted to show up, eat, and then go do what he had to do. Most people didn't notice him, he was a member of a mass, darker skin, dark hair, just like everyone else. His facial scars were easy to ignore too. He wanted it that way, just be totally anonymous. He didn't know how long that'd last with how much he hung around the others and the army's officers were starting to recognize him as one of the big players along with his ancestors. Only took them five days: they were smart.<p>

It'd been a week since the Ilythians had arrived. Everyone was still getting tested for Eagle Vision but thirteen of the officers had tested positive for the ability. According to the Ilythians because of how much the proeathan blood had spread through the human population that Eagle Vision was actually much more common than they thought. It was just that most people never knew they had it, or learned to use it. Or they had it as children but it was dismissed as an overactive imagination. Supposedly one in five hundred humans would have Eagle Vision, and in a concentrated group of the best of the humans they had it would appear more because those with more proeathan blood tended to be… better. Not at anything in particular, but what they wanted to do they were just _better_. They were still wading through the few thousand members of their little human army and then they still had to test the noncombatives. There were going to be more, they just had to _find them_.

The Eagle Vision training had, as Od had promised, started immediately. They'd only started the fighting training yesterday, which was full of tactics and proeathan strategy half the time. The other half dedicated to how to actually attack a proeathan that could probably sense you at best or have actual premonition at worst. Range was their friend but all proeathans were trained to close the distance as quickly as possible when fighting humans where they could be quickly dispatched. That's how they'd fought during the first war, and it was how they fought now if they were able, changing tactics only slightly in the past five years to be more intimidating as nowadays humans were more likely to run than stand their ground. Desmond remained the only person to fight an Ilythian battle master and win, so far at least. He didn't doubt that Altair would join him in that regard, and probably Ezio and Hawk, and he didn't doubt Cain could handle a proeathan easily. The rest would have to work as a group to take down a proeathan, which was becoming shockingly obvious to everyone. That was how they'd won the last war after Toba: they'd overwhelmed the proeathans with their numbers.

Desmond was enjoying lunch though, between training blocks. The food was good at least, and he kept it simple. And it was all real _human_ food. None of the processed stuff he'd eaten at Pluto's or the rations while on the road or what he'd been able to scavenge while on his own or the weird shit the Ilythians ate. It was human food and there were more than enough cooks among the former slaves that they could, while maybe not cook for everyone, direct Demeter on how to do it. It meant that Desmond, and everyone else, got human cuisine like they hadn't had in five years. And Desmond did what any red blooded American would do when given this opportunity he hadn't had in years: he had steak and potatoes. And it was _perfect_.

Desmond glanced up from his lunch at a commotion on the other side of the cafeteria, where one of the three exits was. He couldn't see over the crowd that was gathering and frankly he didn't give a shit anyway. He went back to his food, ignoring everything.

"Ah, there you are," he looking up when Demeter spoke and appeared next to him.

"What?" but she was gone already, leaving him sitting there befuddled.

The commotion got closer and Desmond just tried to enjoy his food. Then it was suddenly right in front of him and he had to look up.

People had circled his table, all talking excitedly, and that weirded him out, but standing opposite him was the reason they'd all come. There were two people. One was Jake, standing with an annoyed look on his face, arms crossed looking like a body guard. In front of him, was what everyone was excited about. And frankly Desmond didn't blame them either. Lucy was standing in front of Desmond, wearing her normal, practical, clothes she wore in training, her hair held out of her face with several hair clips since she couldn't pull it back anymore. He'd never seen her with her hair like that. Desmond, as usual, thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He was pretty sure he liked her better with short hair too.

"I thought you didn't do people," Desmond said and only half the people quieted so their conversation was mostly drowned out by their excited twittering.

"I make exceptions," she said.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Come with me," she said.

"I'm eating," he complained.

"Come on," she nodded towards the door.

"Tell me what you want first," he said firmly, "I don't do shit without being told why anymore, even by pretty girls."

Lucy leaned forward, and said softly, "Lucy wants to see you _stadalla_," just loud enough for him to hear. He frowned and then looked over her shoulder at Jake and realized why he looked so annoyed. He was playing bodyguard to a hologram who _looked_ like Lucy.

Desmond's hand squeezed the knife and then before he knew what he was doing he slammed it into the hologram's hand on the table. The crowd cried out, silence lasting a second before they started yelling. "SHUT UP!" Desmond thundered, standing, now pissed. The crowd became hushed. "Drop the act," he told the hologram but he had a good idea who it was.

Venus just smiled, but didn't, she just lifted her hand from the table and showed it was crowd who ahhed in amazement like she'd just performed a miracle. "Come walk with me," she told Desmond, a very un-Lucy look on her face now.

Desmond grabbed the steak knife up from the table and pointed it at her, "Fuck off," he told Venus, then put it on the table next to his plate and half eaten lunch. There was no room to back up away from his table so he just climbed on top of the table and jumped off the other side. "Jake," he said and gave him an annoyed look, "leave her."

Jake shrugged and followed Desmond through the muttering crowd. He didn't see what happened to Venus but by an outcry he assumed they'd tried to touch her and she'd evaporated.

"She really wanna see me?" Desmond asked when they left the cafeteria.

"Yes," Jake said.

"Why'd she send Venus?"

"She didn't. She just asked one of them to get you. Venus asked me to help her with something and I got roped into this shit."

"Where is she?"

"The nursery," Jake said, "she's having lunch with the kids."

Desmond's chest ached, "She would be," he said.

"She likes it there."

"At least she feels safe there. I'm sure the children don't bother her like the adults do."

"They don't. They all think she's their mother though."

"Worse things in life than thinking a beautiful woman who loves you is your mother," Desmond said feeling hollow suddenly being reminded of his own mother. His poor mother who'd been depressed his entire life and who had never held him, never loved him. He couldn't even remember her face she was such a distant memory, the most clear one being the day she'd found him in Duncan's room screaming and crying. She'd yelled at him to stop being so loud before seeing what had happened and picked him up and taken him away. It had been the one time his mother had held him, the one time she'd hugged him, and the one time she'd spoken to him. She'd been so broken and no one had helped her, no one had given her the help she'd needed. She or his brother.

"I guess," Jake shrugged.

"You guess?" Desmond asked.

"Well, all of mine are dead," he said.

"… Well one of them might be alive," Desmond said.

"I doubt it. I mean Malik's got no hope. But mine? Ha! Like I'd be lucky to have both my parents alive."

Desmond looked at him, "So you think you dad's alive?"

Jake looked at Desmond, "I was adopted," he said. Desmond stared at him, "Eugene was a pasty ginger with a great haircut and a ton of freckles and liked to fix machines."

"I didn't know that," Desmond said.

"Yeah, no one does. Don't like to think about it."

"And your mom?"

"_Moms_," Jake said, "we were adopted by lesbians. One was an ex-Mormon, hence Nasir, the other was a black lady from the Bible belt." Desmond continued to stare at Jake. "What?"

"And I thought my family was diverse. So a black lady and a Mormon lady adopted a ginger and a Arab boy? Sounds like a great sitcom." That made Jake laugh so hard he had to stop walking.

"Yeah my friends usually said that when I told them too," Jake said with a grin. "Who knows maybe my life will be a Hallmark movie only with about a hundred percent more gay sex."

"You say that like its a good thing," Desmond teased him.

"Well if I remember it _was_ a good thing for you Mr. So Thirsty I Slept With the First Guy I Could Get," Jake teased right back.

"Ouch. I deserved that," he agreed as they got on the lift that would take them to the nursery level.

"And then some," Jake said.

"You know what she wants?" Desmond asked and felt himself getting butterflies.

"Nope. I think it has something to do with the Eagle Vision," he shrugged. Jake didn't have Eagle Vision, not a high enough concentration of proeathan blood. Lucy didn't either, which made sense since she was a synth. He frowned thinking the word. He didn't like thinking about her like that. She was human, same as the rest of them.

"But no better idea?"

"No, sorry," Jake said, the lift glided to a halt and the outer door opened. They walked down the short hallway to the inner door that opened to the nursery. It had been transformed in a gigantic playground with dozens of swings and slides and a ball pit and a huge sandbox. It was impressive.

Lucy was sitting near the entrance, on a bench, like a mom watching her kids play, but she wasn't looking at the kids. Instead she was looking up at Venus. "There he is. Just like I said, I brought him," Venus said proudly and upon seeing Desmond shifted into Lucy's form, previously she'd looked like herself, like a mother goddess. Desmond scowled at her as they approached. "What is it Desmond?" Venus asked in Lucy's voice.

"Stop that," Desmond said since when he glanced down at Lucy she looked horribly uncomfortable to know Desmond still loved her so much Venus would still look like her.

"What?" Venus asked.

"Stop looking like her," he said shortly, "right now."

"What? But I'm just-

"Don't give me your 'following my programming' bullshit. You're out of those chains. Now _stop_ looking like her or I'll make you," he said and it was a threat he could carry out.

"But-

"I don't want you to _ever_ look like her again. Understand?" he demanded.

"I…" she frowned, closed her mouth and then shifted into Altair's form, "Yes Desmond," she said in Altair's voice.

"Good. And don't pull a stunt like that again. That goes for you too Demeter," he called a bit louder, knowing she was listening. "I know you think you're trying to help, but all its doing is pissing me off."

Venus frowned apologetically, which was the weirdest look on Altair's face ever, "I'm sorry," she said.

"You should be. Now get out," and she vanished.

"You didn't have to do that," Lucy said softly.

He looked down at her, "No, I did," he said. "I don't want them to pressure you just because of me," and next to him Jake made an approving noise. "I don't want being around me uncomfortable."

Lucy smiled a little, "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"Now what did you want to see me about?" he asked.

"Hold on, do I need to hang out? Cause I promised I'd go see Altair before next training block."

"No you can go, thanks," Lucy said, "Don't do anything unsightly," she added, giving him a look.

Jake laughed, "Its Altair, how unsightly do you honestly think it'd get?"

"Who knows maybe he'd kiss you in front of people. What would people think?" and Jake laughed harder.

"That's the day the earth stops," he said, "See you," and he left.

"I take it that's a running joke I missed out on?" Desmond asked.

"Jake and Altair are sleeping together," she said very bluntly.

Desmond blinked, "Okay," he said slowly. "Who's the big spoon?"

"Who do you think?"

Desmond snorted, "Right, why'd I bother to ask? So what did you want?"

"I don't have Eagle Vision," she said.

"Yeah, we know that."

"But I have something _like it_," she continued. "I can see things normal humans can't, but not like how you do in Eagle Vision. Altair described the state to me, in detail. The world loses its color, and things are sort of fuzzy, and depth perception sort of goes out the fucking window because everything is so bright. I see in full color," she said.

Desmond frowned, "Can you do it on command?"

"I don't know. Unless I'm looking at something I shouldn't be able to see I don't even notice," she said.

"Well what did you want me to do?"

"The Ilythians won't give me the time, because I'm-" her mouth worked, "I'm a synth," she said at last. "They said a synth can't have Eagle Vision, our eyes are too underdeveloped or something equally spiciest. But I _do_ see things, Pluto knew I could, they _know_ I can. They just chose to do nothing instead of figuring out what I can do."

"So you want me to train you?" EV training was a closed session. Only those with Eagle Vision were allowed to participate, because it involved applying specific stimuli to the eyes and visual processes of the brain. Doing such to someone without the ability would do nothing or trigger a seizure even in people who didn't suffer from epilepsy.

"Yes," she said nodding.

He thought it over a second. She was right. She had the right to know what was going on with her. If she didn't have Eagle Vision she might have something else that was equally as useful. And if Pluto knew that meant they were just choosing to bury it. "Okay," he said. "Come with me," he offered her his hand. She grabbed it and he helped her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they got onto the lift and Desmond moved his finger across the control screen in the configuration that would get them where they needed to go.

"Someplace quiet," Desmond said. Lucy looked nervous a moment as the lift started moving. "Don't worry," he said, "I'm not… going to do anything to you. Its just easier in the quiet, I can't do it with so much noise myself."

"Oh."

"Lucy-" he didn't quite know what he wanted to say to her. "You can choose whatever you want," he said after a few seconds trying to compile his thoughts. "You don't owe me anything."

"Really?" she asked him flatly.

"I mean I'd like it but… you don't owe me anything. I mean, I _killed you_. I think that's pretty good reason to want to stay _far_ away from you. I don't exactly blame you," he looked at the wall, not her, as he spoke. "I've changed," he said, "and maybe not for the better. I was so desperate to return for selfish reasons, not because the world needed me. I'm a selfish asshole honestly, I don't know how anyone actually stands me."

"You do your best," she said.

"And so far my best has been shit. I doomed my species, I rose the central city of the proeathans, I keep _fucking it up_. I'm trying though," he looked at her desperately, "You have to know I'm trying."

"I do," she said. "And I'm grateful you are. I was so afraid of what you'd do when I told you. I honestly never expected you to… be okay with it."

"I'm not," Desmond said shortly, "but I'm trying. Because you deserve that. I'm the reason you're as you are. And you deserve better than that, you both do."

She looked away from him, mastering herself, "Thank you," she said softly.

The lift stopped and irised open revealing one of Demeter's garden levels. This garden was a temperate one with wild grass and flowers covering the floor and all the plants carefully planted in rows or clumps. It felt a lot like South Dakota during the summer, cool, the air crisp with a touch of heat if you stood in the sun.

Desmond led Lucy into the garden and sat down on the soft ground, one without surface rocks so the grass was very soft. "So when I met the Ilythians I could only go into Eagle Vision. Though you know I can do more now," she nodded. "I could only do it when I tried, and then only when it was so dark that I'd only be able to see if I went into that mode. The sixth sense is in color, like what you're describing, but you have to tailor it to what you want. I learned to fight with mine, so I can see the future about two seconds before it happens. Not useful in normal situations, but when you fights two seconds is invaluable. I used to have to be in Eagle Vision to go into the sixth sense. But now," he blinked and went into it.

"Blue eyes," Lucy said softly.

"Yeah. Proeathans are naturally colorblind, they _always_ see in their sort of version of Eagle Vision which is so much better than ours its scary. Using their sixth sense allows them to see in full color."

"How did you learn to do that? Go straight into it?"

"Practice," Desmond went back to his normal vision, which wasn't much different than the sixth sense other than Lucy wasn't waving back and forth or crying. He laid back on the soft grass, "Lay down," he said, she laid down next to him. "The trick is to learn to relax and contract your eyes," he said. "If I want to go into Eagle Vision I relax my eyes, which is why it becomes so hazy."

"And if you want to see in the sixth sense you sharpen?"

"Yeah kinda. Its difficult to explain how to contract your eyes since your eyes just naturally relax and go out of focus, its easier. Demeter," he called.

"Yes, Desmond?"

"Give us a ceiling, something with depth."

"Yes, Desmond," she said and the ceiling changed from blue to a multi layered image of a forest from the floor. The tight foreground was sticks and some grass, the midground trees, and the background more trees and a large rock in the distance. It was all perfectly sharp in a way real life or pictures weren't and looked like something from a video game. "Perfect, thank you."

"You're welcome," she said.

"So relax your eyes."

"Okay," Lucy said.

"Once you can blink and keep your eyes unfocused we'll do something else," Desmond said, his eyes relaxing into unfocused, but not all the way into Eagle Vision. "Lemmie when you can do that it shouldn't take too long."

"Okay," Lucy said and they laid there in silence. Half an hour passed. "Okay I think I can do it good enough now."

"Perfect," Desmond said and contracted his eye to see the far background of the great image in crystal clear definition. "Now I want you to focus on the background, on the level with the rock. And _just _the background. If you bring the mid or foreground into focus you did it wrong."

"And this is what you did?"

"Yes," Desmond said, "Every night after fighting practice I'd stare up at the sky until I could barely see and learn to control my focus. Relaxing is easy, it took me a while to learn to contract my pupils at will. But now I can."

"So I shouldn't feel bad if I can't do it right away?"

"Correct," Desmond said.

"Okay," and then they were quiet. They stayed like that until dinner, not saying anything to one another and not really needing to anyway.


	10. They Sing Among the Branches

what no FM isn't ending in a few chapters. Kingbird! Don't go around confusing my other readers. idk where you got the idea that I'm ending the story in six chapters. Terrible Things will probably be about as long as FM and 17th, maybe a bit shorter because the story is more direct.

and you can write that fanfic about DiSol and Mali if you want KB, I'd love to see it ouo (also I have a message box on my blog, you can send me messages through there too you know =3=)

also still kinda sick: I'm a booger factory!

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><p>On the list of people Desmond needed to sit down and talk to Clay was near the top. The guy hated him because he didn't understand just <em>what<em> Desmond had done. What had Ezio said? Clay said he was the antichrist, and yeah, Desmond wouldn't exactly disagree at this point. But it was so beyond biblical and Clay wasn't the only one Desmond had heard in the past week or so talking softly about it. Normal people, ones who did work in Demeter similar to Hawk and Clay, talking about it. Sometimes they'd steal glances at him.

They also weren't the only ones and he'd heard 'demon' uttered more than once. Which again he didn't exactly blame, since he was dressed all in dark colors and had weird marks on his face that glowed sometimes when he wasn't paying attention. Still he knew where the rumors were starting: Clay. Because Clay apparently believed in that biblical shit. Desmond was getting sick of it, since even some of the officers were wary of him, especially when he tapped into his sixth sense.

Short version; he needed to straighten this shit out with Clay.

Clay was often in one of two places. One was the main war room, staring at the great, holographic, map of the world, or at his station's screen. The other was in one of Demeter's tropical gardens. Apparently he'd acclimated well to the tropical sun and weather incredibly well and liked that weather.

Desmond was waiting for him in his usual garden. Standing in front of a big tree where Clay liked to come, meditate, and do whatever it was he did when he looked far back through his genetic line. He heard Clay approach, but didn't turn or acknowledge him. He knew Clay knew they'd have to talk eventually, but Clay was non confrontational, so he'd never go to Desmond to talk. Meaning he had to be the bigger man and seek Clay out.

"What are you doing here?" Clay asked after a good minute of silence.

Desmond turned slowly, "We need to talk," he said.

"I have nothing to say to you," Clay said.

"Tough shit," Desmond said mercilessly. "We're talking, we can do it here or I'll have Demeter broadcast my voice to you anywhere in the ark. What's your choice?"

Clay scowled at him, but Desmond wouldn't be denied. "Fine," he said, crossing his arms, "Start talking."

"First; hey Clay you look great and not dead," Clay didn't seem amused. "Second, you _gotta_ stop telling people I'm the fucking antichrist."

"Except you are."

"Except I'm fucking _not_," it was Desmond's turn to scowl. "Do you even know what the antichrist is?"

"Of course, I know what the bible says," Clay rolled his eyes.

Desmond blinked, unimpressed. "The antichrist is the Abraham religions rationalized the story of the _stadalla_," Desmond said. "Most human religions have a version of the antichrist, as a person, or event. Because the proeathan culture was so strong in our species lives that it became the stories we made up. Their Stars? Roman gods. Important leaders from the proeathan world? Eventually became gods in our religions. The story of the apocalypse, Ragnarok, the antichrist, the end of the Mayan calendar, the coming of the Greek Titans. All stories told to explain one thing; me."

"That seems oftly presumptuous of you," Clay said.

"Except it isn't," Desmond said. "When proeathans left humans had to find new ways to explain things they saw as the knowledge of technology and science faded from the collective memory of a tiny, traumatized and shell shocked, population that remained after the Toba Event. So they became stories and our gods. But there's a common thread through all those stories, all those cultures, like dragons; the end. Or _an_ end I guess," he frowned. "But man you can't go around saying I'm the antichrist people think I'm a fucking _demon_," he sighed.

"I never said that."

"Antichrist equals demon. And it doesn't help my name is Desmond. You take out two letters you get demon and I know crackpot conspiracy theorists exist out there still."

Clay approached him slowly, "You still rose Atlantis."

"I needed to."

"Why?"

"Its complicated okay."

"No. _Why_?" Clay pressed.

"I need to get to the arch at its center."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"My ancestors called you the antichrist."

"Who?"

"Solomon."

"King Solomon?"

"I don't know. I think he might have been older, from the time of the proeathans. But he _did_ call you the antichrist."

Desmond frowned deeply. "Hawk told me you get weird visions and shit. How's that work exactly?"

"Its my unconscious mind trying to communicate with my conscious mind. The shades come strongest after I meditate, and tell me what's been, what I forgot during my trance."

"And they're always right?"

"They've yet to be wrong. One taught me how to fly a numia. Pluto actually."

"You're related to Pluto?"

"So are you," Clay reminded him."

"Right… right," Desmond looked down a moment. "I'm not the antichrist," he said again. "I'm the _stadalla_."

"Then what's that if not the proeathan word for antichrist?"

"Only through one definition. I had one of the Ilythian scholars spell it out for me, because if they were gonna fucking call me that I might as well know exactly what it was. Think of it more like the Mayan calendar. The end is supposed to be the end of the world. Except its just the end of the era. Like we're in the era of jaguar now or something I don't remember I saw a History doc on it seven years ago," he shrugged. "Regardless. What I'm getting at is that most proeathans choose to define _stadalla_ as 'the end of the world' like most humans define the apocalypse, or the fucking antichrist. But its more like… the in between. Its a transition between two times."

"How else do they define _stadalla_?"

"Well when you translate it directly into English _stadalla_ is something like," he squinted, making a face, to remember exactly, "they which bring about the epoch's end. Or civilization, depends on the dialects or language. That is _exactly_ what _stadalla_ means."

Clay looked at him then closed his eyes, looking like he was thinking. He kept his eyes closed for five minutes and Desmond let him have his time. "Solomon said that they would bring about the end of civilization as we knew it," he said and opened his eyes. "And then he quoted a line of scripture about the antichrist."

"Didn't you _just say_ that the shades are your unconscious trying to talk to your conscious mind? It was putting it into terms you understood since I'm sure _stadalla_ would have meant literally nothing to you."

"But its still the end."

"Its a middle," Desmond said stubbornly. "The world's not going to end, nothing's going to explode. I _won't let it_. What I will do is make sure our species is safe. The proeathans destroyed our civilization."

"So what? You're going to destroy theirs?"

"The world ended for humans when the proeathans destroyed our civilization and took everything from us. I'm going to level the playing field."

Clay frowned. "Balance it out," he said.

"That's the plan."

Clay looked thoughtful, "Its weird," he said, "Cain was right, and wrong about you. He said you'd rip the world apart, but you don't want too," Desmond shook his head in agreement.

"Spoilers immortals are wrong _a lot_," Desmond said.

"But he was right too," Clay said. "I don't know if the others have noticed. Or maybe they don't want to see. But you're different. The guy I saw on Hawke Island that time… that's not you anymore. You're driven now, you got this- this _look_ in your eye. Sometimes it scares me. But you aren't that kid I saw back then; you've grown up."

Desmond sighed in slight frustration, "You sound like my dad."

"Andrew's talked to you?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he say?"

"He said I looked 'like an adult'," and he made finger quotes with both hands. "Asshole."

"He's trying," Clay said and Desmond looked at him, "I've talked to him, and I knew him. He didn't realize really what he did Desmond, to you, to his family. You're the same in that when you see something you just put on blinders and go for it until you get it… or you break it. I know you think he doesn't care-

"He doesn't," Desmond said firmly, "He's the self centered man he's always been."

"He's trying."

"Well its a little too little too late," Desmond snapped. "Maybe he could have tried when I was eight."

"I'm not your enemy," Clay said.

"Ship's sailed, he didn't catch the boat. He can die for all I care." Clay said nothing to that.

"Did you know?" Clay asked, "About Atlantis?"

"What about Atlantis?"

"That it'd be where you had to go?"

"Yes," Desmond said, "all along. Well since I left. The AIs told me. Atlantis has always been their end game. They always meant for you guys to build up the army. But really they don't expect you to do much but be a distraction so I can get through."

"They're going to throw away thousands of lives," Clay said.

"Price we pay."

"Price you'd pay?"

Desmond gave him a level tone, "I already am responsible for six billion deaths, Clay," he said without a shred of guilt, "a few thousand more are just numbers at this point." He couldn't let it consume him. Not like it had before. He'd agonized about it so much, about all that meaningless death he'd unleashed upon humanity.

"What do you need a distraction for?"

"To get to the Unnamed. Its a door. I need to go through it."

"What's on the other side."

"I don't know," Desmond said, "the records of what lies within the Unnamed were lost along with a lot of proeathan records. I just know that that's where the map on my body is pointing to with literally every square inch of skin. So we'll find out when we get there."

"Those AI of yours better be right Desmond," Clay said.

"They are," Desmond said, "I trust them."

"Really?"

"Really. They wouldn't lie to me. They _can't_ lie to me."

"Mmm."

"So, no more saying I'm the antichrist?"

"No," Clay said, "I'll just call you _stadalla_ and make my techs have to ask our new proeathan friends what that means instead."

"You're a real charmer, Clay," Desmond sighed.

"I try," Clay allowed himself a slight smile.

"So we cool now?"

"Sure."

"Thanks," Desmond held out his hand. Clay took it and they shook.

"Give your dad a chance Desmond," Clay said, squeezing his hand when he went to draw away. "I know its been rough between you two, but he doesn't know what to do, he never really did. But he _is_ trying. I promise you that."

"And how would you know that?" Desmond asked, squeezing Clay's hand back.

"Because I'm his conscious," he said, "and I know you won't believe me, but he does care about you."

"Sure he does," and Desmond shortly, yanking his hand away. "Nice talk Clay. I'll see you around," and he walked around Clay, out of the garden and to the lift. He slammed his gloved hand palm open on the directional interface. "Demeter," he said sharply, "take me to the Ilythian training area."

"Yes Desmond. Should I inform Master Vishnu that you're coming?" she asked as the door irised closed

"Yes," he said, violence in his voice.

"Very well. Please watch your emotions Desmond, you're making it difficult," she said and above the light flickered. Desmond could see the glyphs burning so brightly he saw they clearly through his long sleeved shirt.

"Sorry," he said and made them fade, though held onto that drive he felt. He told himself when he first learned his father was here that he wasn't going to let his father affect him. That he was going to ignore him, pretend he wasn't there. It was too little, too late, and Desmond was past needing daddy's approval.

Desmond punched the wall of the lift so hard his knuckles went numb. Angry that that was still a lie.


	11. Fly Through

repeat after me: Lucy is not a saint. Lucy is _not_ a saint.

* * *

><p>There was a blinking light in the distance. Three short blinks followed by three long blinks, and then three short ones again and then a long pause. Then the pattern repeated. Desmond knew the pattern, but he couldn't remember what it meant.<p>

He stood between four pillars that formed a rectangle, below was a nebula, above the starry skies. Seven smoky figures surrounded that, their shapes undetermined. Beyond them he could see many pairs of gleaming yellow dots that blinked on and off at random. Eyes. Yes, of course they were eyes.

But the light in the distance. A large red star, flickering in that rapid pattern. Over and over again. He couldn't figure it out though. He cocked his head at it. The longer he looked the more the stars and pillars faded and a new foreground appeared. A moor stretched before him, and a great pit yawned open just in front of his toes when he looked down. He didn't fear falling though and instead looked down into the pit. It looked like a quarry, with circular holes bored into the sides. A mine, it was a mine.

There was no one working. The mine was quiet and then a light from above, brighter than the sun, drew his eyes swiftly upwards. He was just in time to see a great ball of light streak down and hit the center of the mine. The world went white.

Desmond woke in one go, the dream seeping around him. Then it came to him. The flickering red light. He sat bolt upright and nearly leapt out of bed. "Demeter," he said, yanking on fresh clothes.

"Yes Desmond?" Demeter asked in the same patient, measured, voice she always had.

"What time is it?"

"Its four in the morning," she said.

"Fuck… can't wait though," he muttered to himself. "Wake the others. Something's happened."

"Yes, we know," Demeter said.

"You know?"

"When you project in your dreams, we know," she said, she appeared next to him. "Its dangerous to do that, Desmond. We can't protect you when you do that."

"Do what? You know, never mind, it can wait," he said before she could speak again. "Get the others up, meet in the main war room."

"Shall I also wake the Ilythians?" she asked as she opened a slide in the wall with a wave of her hand. A compartment opened revealing a matte black sphere about the size of a baseball.

Desmond grabbed it as he said, "Od at least, he can chose to wake whoever we wants."

"Very well. Ezio isn't pleased with you for the early wake up call."

"Ezio can save his breath," Desmond said finally dressed, and yanked his gloves on as he left the room over the matte black band around his wrist. "This is important."

"Of course," Demeter said, "Altair will be waiting for you there-

"Something wrong?"

"I didn't contact him but I believe Cain knows as well."

Desmond sighed, "Whatever. Just leave the mortals to sleep a bit more, yes I mean Lucy I-" he didn't know what to do still. He could be normal with her. But it was with difficulty.

"Very well," Demeter said and flickered away.

Desmond arrived at the main war room a few minutes later. Altair was there already, sitting on one side of the table and Desmond wasn't surprised Cain was there as well, sitting on the other side of the table. Altair was glaring at Cain, who couldn't seem to care less. "Hi," Desmond said when he entered.

"This better be good," Altair grumbled.

"It is," Desmond said. "What are you doing here?" he asked, narrow eyed, at Cain.

"I go where the excitement is of course," he said with a sly grin. "Get better and maybe I won't know everything. Though Altair's had five hundred years and still can't manage that," he chuckled a little and Altair glared even harder at him.

"What do you know then old man?"

"About this? Only that we're on a time table. So I hope the others _do_ hurry up."

"And how do you know that?"

Cain looked at him patiently, "Because that was bomb," and Desmond was thrown. Cain had seen that? Cain had _seen_ the mine and the light?

"What?"

"Like I said: get better," Cain said.

Desmond squinted at him. He made a note to have a conversation with Cain. Maybe get _some_ answers out of the ancient. But it'd have to wait. The door opened, Hawk and Ezio both entered, Ezio's hair was barely restrained and Hawk hadn't even bothered with his.

"Please tell me there is a real reason for being awake so early," Ezio groaned.

"Where's Jake?" Desmond asked.

"I told him to stay," Altair said, "Better question is where's Clay?"

"Clay and Od will arrive momentarily," Demeter said.

"Od bringing anyone?" Desmond asked.

"No. He isn't."

Desmond finally sat, except he jumped right back up because he couldn't. He very short of paced, waiting for Clay and Od to make their appearance. Finally the proeathan did come, and Clay arrived after. Clay looked out of it, drunk or high or in some way inhibited.

"What's going on?" Od asked, the only one but Desmond not sitting.

"I… think I had a vision," Desmond said. Od eyed him the others just looked confused.

"A what? Like, a seeing the future sort of vision?" Ezio asked. "How? Is that even possible?"

"Yes," Od said, "Minor Seeing is possible with training, as you all have seen. But true foresight is a very rare gift, one difficult to access and control. What did you see, Desmond?"

"I saw a distress signal," Desmond said, "a light, blinking S.O.S. Then, I saw a mine, I don't know where, then a bright light streaked from the sky and then-

"And then?" Altair asked.

"I woke up," he said. He looked at Od, "Any ideas?"

Od did not look happy. "It was a very, very, large bomb," he said.

Desmond glanced at Cain, "Yeah, figured that."

"So you saw some mine get blown up, big deal," Hawk said.

"A proeathan mine," Od said, "right?" Desmond nodded.

"Humans work proeathan mines," Altair said in a hard, level, tone. "What did you see at the mine?"

"Nothing," Desmond said, "there was no one there but. It didn't _feel_ abandoned. Right?" he looked at Cain. C'mon old man back me up here.

"It had been evacuated," Cain said.

"And how'd you know?" Ezio asked.

"I know _many_ things," Cain said, "Not all things I need to share if you'd prefer?"

"Don't antagonize him Auditore," Od said, "The wanderer will share what he wants," Cain smiled meanly at the proeathan at that. "But he does not lie. Where was the mine?"

"I don't know," Cain said, "I only know what I see with my eyes."

Od frowned deeply at that, "Hmm," he said. "What terrain was the mine in?" he asked Desmond.

"Flatland," he said, "which could be anywhere."

"If we knew what they were mining we could narrow it down," Hawk said. "Any ideas? Just throw some out," he said it mainly to Od.

"Lead," he said, "electrum, copper, platinum. Those are the main metals we mine for."

"Right," Hawk made the war room halo table light up and input some things. "Humans don't mine for electrum much anymore. If they needed new electrum they'd have to start fresh. How big was this mine?" he asked Desmond.

"I don't know, big?"

"Helpful."

"I'd say a few hundred feet deep. It was more like a quarry than a mine though. They seemed more interested in getting at things laterally than depth wise."

"Sounds like a salt mine," Altair suddenly said. "You don't need to go very deep for salt and it usually forms on flat areas. And with the seas much lower than they have been in thousands of years."

"Sounds good," Hawk said and the hologram of the globe he was playing with spun. "How's important salt to your kind, Od?" he asked the Ilythian, not looking at him.

"About as important as it is to yours," Od said.

"Stop," Clay grabbed Hawk's wrist. "There," he tracked a finger across the table. "I also had a very strange vision. Though it was in the past," as all his were. "I saw how they made Pieces of Eden. Sort of. They require a specific salt compound for it. You can't just use _any_ salt." The hologram of the globe zoomed in, becoming flat. "The Dead Sea," he said, "it has the type of salt the proeathans need. I… I think they used to mine from the Caspian Sea area, but its been flooded since they went to sleep."

"So you think that's where the mine was?" Desmond asked.

"Its the best guess I have," he said. "We won't know for sure unless we send a scout," he looked at Od.

"I'll have one of my men go."

"It could be too late," Cain said.

"We're not doing _anything_ on a hunch," Altair growled. "For all we know it could be a trick."

"But I saw-

"I don't give a shit what you saw," Altair cut Desmond off. "Od just said that something like this is rare and difficult to control. For all you know it was a lie. Not exactly out of the question seeing that proeathan things lie _all_ the time," and Desmond had no come back for that. The Apple had lied to Altair for centuries, and clearly Altair was still mad about it. "Od will send a scout numia to investigate the Dead Sea if there is a mine."

"I want to go with it," Desmond said.

"Out of the question."

"Altair-

"You're not winning this one," Altair said. "You're not going. Don't forget the last time you were in a numia. You broke it," he reminded Desmond.

"That happened _once_."

"You aren't going," Desmond scowled at him. Altair wasn't impressed. "Whatever vision you did have, we'll handle it as it comes. Od, how long will it take your men to get to the Dead Sea?"

"Half a day," Od said, "possibly less. We'll know for sure what you saw when it arrives."

"Good. Then go wake them. If this is something we have to deal with I want it done as quickly as possible. We're still training out officers so I'm _not_ looking forward to an assault," he huffed and got up. "Everyone go back to sleep," he looked pointedly at Desmond, "We'll know what we need to do in a few hours."

Desmond scowled hard at Altair, "Fine," he said shortly, seeing he wasn't going to win. "Keep me updated," he told Od.

"Of course, now excuse me," and he left.

"Well, I'm going back to sleep," Ezio said with a yawn. "You two," hr grabbed both Altair and Clay by the back of their collars, "You both need at least an hour of sleep, lets go," and he dragged them out of the room. Hawk shut down the table before following, staring at his tablet as he walked.

That just left Desmond alone with Cain.


	12. Sampati

The ancient said nothing. He just sat where he'd been the entire time. Desmond stared back. "What are you?" Desmond asked. Cain had _seen_ the vision he'd had. He didn't even know how. Hell he didn't even know how _he_ had that vision. And if Cain had seen it who else had?

"What makes you think I'm anything but what I appear?"

"Because that's too easy. You're not that easy to figure out."

Cain smiled a little, "Well you certainly have me there. Most people ask who I am though."

"I don't really give a shit," Desmond said, "You're on our side, for whatever reason and the AIs haven't thrown you out or locked you up. Who you are is irrelevant. What are you? Cause you aren't what you appear."

"And how do I appear?" Cain asked.

"Human."

"Well so do you," Cain said. "So what's that say about you golden boy?"

Desmond frowned, "I have a beginning. You don't. You just showed up in Altair's life one day."

"What? You think I sprang from the earth fully formed? As flattering as that is I'm not _really_ a god. As close as any human's ever gotten perhaps, but I had parents. They're dead now of course, but I did have them."

"And they were human?"

"As human as anyone else," Cain said. Desmond frowned, there was a piece he was missing from that. He could tell in the way Cain seemed so satisfied with his answer. He was getting one over on Desmond but Desmond didn't know how.

"You think you're so smart don't you," Desmond growled.

"Not really," Cain said, "mainly because I _know_ I'm so smart," he grinned smugly. It was… so Altair Desmond actually had to pause a moment. He was fairly sure Altair had gotten that grin from Cain and that was a weird thought. Smug assholes; the both of them. How had they lived together for centuries? Maybe Altair hadn't been able to stand Cain's smugness. Which was the pot calling the kettle black maybe but if the shoe fit.

"Still haven't answered the question."

"I have. You're just need to be better at figuring it out."

"Like I need to be better at the visions thing. Which, how did you see?"

"It wasn't like it was hard," Cain said, "your mind is so messy, so disorganized. When you're awake you can keep it together. But asleep? You're completely transparent. I'm surprised the others haven't dream shared with you even with as weak as their gifts are," so Cain _did_ have a gift. Maybe not Eagle Vision, but then it wasn't out of the question that different lines of humans couldn't have different gifts. Right?

"So you saw what I saw?"

"Yes," Cain said.

"How?"

"How? How did you do it?"

"I don't know."

"Well maybe it just happens. Maybe you wanted me to see."

"Yes, of all the people I could have shared a vision with it would be you," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Of course. The oldest living thing on the planet, wouldn't want his experience to weigh in on this thing I've never experienced before," Cain was probably the most sarcastic dick head Desmond had ever met. And Desmond had met _himself_ so that was saying something. "Contrary to the lies Altair has fed you, and our last meeting; I am trying to help."

"Really? Could have fooled me," Desmond said.

"Sometimes too much knowledge is a burden.

"You just love being an enigma don't you?" Desmond asked sarcastically. "Give only enough to keep everyone interested."

Cain levered himself out of the chair and Desmond suddenly found himself face to face with the ancient. The last time he'd been this close had been in Central America and he'd been terrified. Now all Desmond did was blink. "I could say the same for you kid," he said. "Grow up alone, then fell off the face of the earth in a way that probably made Altair _furious _every time he lost you. You've got a clone that knows your every waking moment and is everything you are down to the mitochondria in your cells and yet you're still something no one's ever seen. Something no one knows how to deal with. Everyone just knows _enough_ to be interested," Cain cocked his head to the side. "Whatever I am. Its nothing like what you are, kid."

Desmond swallowed now, less confidant, "Any ideas on that one?"

"I was going to go with Death personally," he shrugged, sort of frowning, but clearly he didn't care. "Maybe we'll figure it out when we get to Atlantis," he smacked Desmond on the arm in an oddly familiar gesture. "I wonder if its going to matter though. You're just one of the freaks now," and then he walked passed Desmond.

"What do you want Cain?" Desmond asked as the ancient walked toward the door.

"I once saw a future. One different than the one Altair saw," Cain said, pausing. "Dunno if it'll still happen," he glanced back at Desmond, "but I'd kinda like to see it anyway. Just to see how we get there. That's always the fun part you know. Not the future you see finally arriving, but how you get there. Abel could learn a thing or two about the journey. So worried about the destination he gets lost."

"He does," Desmond said.

"Get some sleep _stadalla_," Cain said, "Altair might be cautious, but we both know what's waiting at the Dead Sea. We've been lucky with those plantations. But I don't think that's gonna hold out," he nodded at Desmond and then left the war room.

Desmond thought about following him. But talking with Cain was like playing with fire. You could wave your fingers briefly through the flames and not get burned, but linger and that quickly changed. Cain wouldn't tell him anymore anyway. He knew enough to know that. Cain only offered information he wanted to offer; even if it next to nothing anyway!

The guy was god damn insufferable. Somehow Desmond knew he'd done this to everyone else for six months and now he had to deal with it and he _still_ hadn't answered a single one of Desmond's questions. This was a running theme in his life it seemed, powerful entities not answering his questions. Cain just sidestepped it and gave him other things to think about instead. Bastard was _good_ at that and Desmond hadn't even noticed till Cain was gone. Though live a thousand years and you probably get good at deterring people from asking about what you were, why you looked the same the last time they saw you. Made sense. Didn't make it any less infuriating though.

"Demeter," Desmond said.

"Yes, Desmond?"

"Do you have any DNA on Cain?"

"No," she said slowly. "Would you like me to acquire some?"

Desmond sighed, "No," he admitted. He was just being childish and stupid. "I'm going to train some before breakfast. Inform me when Od's scout has left, and when the others wake up."

"Of course Desmond."

"And… let me know when Lucy leaves her room."

"Of course, Desmond," Demeter said.

"Thanks," and Desmond left the war room to go train, too wired from the dream to sleep.

* * *

><p>well that answered nothing too!<p>

one day Legacy will have a real Cain chapter: one day.


	13. Hræsvelgr

oooooooooomg you guys q0q I have never gotten so many comments in one day for this story I nearly started crying at work as they came in and I snuck a peak at reading them. I had a really shitty day yesterday and you all made me feel so much better ilu all.

some stuff before the chapter

1. my blog url has changed from when I've last said it. It is now almualimbeatbox over on tumblr and _that_ is where

2. I will answer your non spoilery questions about stuff on my blog okay? So if you have a question, and my answer doesn't spoil _too much_ I'll answer it there under the tag 'bird friends' (which I sure Heron and KB stalk already lol). I don't like making my author notes super long cause who reads these things anyhow but I DO go into great depth in my bird friends tag about _stuff_. (I'm gonna answer all the questions posted from chap 11 in one post if there were any okay c:)

3. *cries about how much everyone loves Cain* I didn't realize he was gonna be so good when I first thought him up and yeah agreed; he's great. And if you want _more_ Cain he does make an appearance in my story Pro Human (also on this site) aaaaaaand will probably show up at some point in Zealous Servant (on my blog or AO3) as an actual god.

4. gg, I'm not gonna go through all your reviews for all the (actually really good) questions you had about stuff. So pick some you actually want me to answer and I will. Also know that some of the answers might just be 'shit I forgot I said that', not surprising since this story is like 300k total omg

okay, story, here you go

* * *

><p>Desmond didn't come here often. He didn't really have a reason to honestly. Well, other than to see Lucy at least. None of the children playing, tumbling, watching something on a large monitor, or napping, paid any mind to Desmond when he entered the big, partitioned, room where they all lived. Low walls separated each of the play areas, low enough for adults to see over but not the children.<p>

Honestly Desmond was here to find Lucy. He just… wanted to see her. Not seeing her was an ache in his chest that was just oddly painful. It was horrible but when she wasn't around she was nearly all he could think about. But all he wanted was for her to be happy. If she was happy he didn't care. Sometimes he hated how much he still loved her. He figured she'd be here since there was no training today. Since Od had sent out that scout they were going into preparation mode, like when they took a plantation. The army was gearing up, getting ready, for the signal to move out. But Desmond knew he'd find Lucy in here, because she wasn't with the others. They'd told him she came in at the last moment. Everyone always stared at her, or wanted to touch her, even just her hand or arm or shoulder; for good luck.

What an awful existence, to shut yourself away from the people who put hope in you. It was why Desmond kept his anonymity. He didn't want to be a symbol. He didn't want to become what Lucy had been turned into.

He found her in one of the partitioned rooms, sitting on a low stool, reading to a collection of the children who all looked up at her with wide eyes. She looked up when he entered. "Desmond," she said in greetings.

"Hey, don't mind me. I'm not even here," he grinned and just leaned against the wall. She turned away from him and kept reading. Here she looked so at ease, happy even.

A cold hand circled his heart. Three and a half years left. That was the remaining time Lucy had left and Desmond was doing his _damnedest_ not to think about it. Three years and then she'd just be _gone_. It made his stomach turn in a bad way. He didn't move, didn't go over to her like he wanted to. He just stood there and watched, and listened. He felt better seeing her, not feeling so anxious, or twitchy. It almost felt like something was wrong with him, when he didn't see her he was a wreck and when he did see her… he was also a wreck. Both were pain but he couldn't figure out which one hurt more.

Eventually he just had to leave. He couldn't stay near her without depressing himself. He didn't want to overwhelm her, or bother her, or seem to be stalking her.

Desmond walked around the big room, seeing what the children were doing, seeing if it was interesting. A few looked up at him silently, with odd expressions that even they didn't seem to understand, and others smiles and waved at him, having seen him with Lucy before. Others just gave him a passing look but most didn't even look up. He was headed back to the door, passing by Lucy's room where she was still reading, when he came across Cain, of all people, helping a group of children build an impressive castle out of blocks.

Cain noticed him instantly, and he got that fucking bullshit look on his face that Altair had that made you want to punch him in the fucking mouth. "Stop that," Desmond said.

"I didn't say anything," was all Cain said.

"You're lucky there are kids here, or I'd have some choice words for you."

"Yeah?" Cain asked and then was on his feet in a surge of motion that seemed like he'd been standing this entire time. He stepped around the castle. "What are you doing here, Desmond? Shouldn't you be with the others? Plotting the assault, gearing up?"

"I don't need to," Desmond said.

"Right, not like any of the proeathan weapons or armor will work for you," Cain sneered.

"Literally fuck off," Desmond said.

"Then why'd you stop?" and Desmond didn't have an answer to that. "What do you want?"

"That's a loaded question," Desmond said shortly.

"Maybe," Cain shrugged, "Doesn't change the question. I mean," he paused a second, "has anyone ever asked what you want?" Desmond's face dropped. "Careful kid, you're starting to look like Abel," Cain smirked.

"Get fucked Cain."

"Sorry, terribly boring, much more interesting when you're asexual."

"What- I…_ what?_" Desmond didn't know how to take that.

"And find other come backs than lame ones about sticking your dick into something. Its incredibly juvenile and fantastically boring," Cain said simply.

Desmond blinked at him, "What?"

"What?" Cain asked right back, "You deaf now? Should I tell Altair you broke again?"

"What- I mean, no," Desmond said.

"Oh good."

"You are literally the most frustrating person I have ever met, and I _lived_ through Altair and Ezio," Desmond said.

"Well then we're even," Cain said, "because you confuse me." Well that was a hit out to far left field. What? Desmond stopped himself before that got out of his mouth so Cain didn't look amused by him. "What are you? What do you want?" Cain asked him.

"I want to win," Desmond said.

"Boring. Better answer," Cain said.

"Uh-

"What do you _want_," Cain said and poked his chest, right on the sternum. "Your little song bird isn't an option either." Song bird? Oh, he meant Lucy. "What does the most valuable man in history want?"

Desmond hesitated. Cain wasn't going to take one of his bullshit, canned, answers he gave the others. He wanted to protect people, or beat the proeathans, or fix this mess. He knew Cain didn't give a shit about any of that. Those weren't the sort of answers he was looking for because they were about the end. Cain didn't care about the end. He was interested in the middle, and probably to some extent the beginning. But not the end.

"You told me to get better," Desmond said, looking Cain straight in his pale blue eyes. "Better at _what_?"

"You know the answer to that," Cain said.

"The whole seeing and dream sharing bullshit," he said.

"Yes."

"I couldn't do that till now."

"Or maybe you weren't looking."

Desmond paused, "Or maybe they wanted me to see?"

"That too," Cain said.

Desmond took a moment, "I want you to tell me about dream sharing," he said.

Cain grinned. "Now that, kid," and he clapped Desmond on the shoulder, "was a good answer."

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><p>real quick<p>

5. top 10 lists make me stupidly happy and squirmy quq


	14. The Emperor

I'm going to do answers to questions every few chapters on my blog. If you can wait to have your question answered post it in your review, if you want it answered now, send me an ask. If you send it to both you're gonna have to wait.

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><p>If Altair knew he'd willingly gone off alone with Cain he'd literally flip his shit so hard he'd probably hurt himself. But Cain wasn't dangerous. Desmond knew that. Cain, for all the bullshit Altair spouted, had never hurt Desmond. Sure maybe a little, momentary, ache, but not bruises that lasted for days, or cuts that criss crossed parts of his body. No, his ancestors had done that to him. Compared to them Cain was practically harmless. The only person Cain had ever wanted to hurt was Altair. Everyone else was just in the way, and if you were in Cain's way he'd just plow through you.<p>

Desmond felt reasonably safe around Cain.

They'd left the nursery, Cain just beckoning and Desmond followed him into the lift. He leaned against the back wall as Cain tapped out where in Demeter he wanted to go. Desmond said nothing. He didn't know Cain, but he knew immortals. They always had a plan, had an angle, and Cain wouldn't talk or answer any questions till he was good and ready.

"How many times has this happened?" Cain asked, turning around to look at him.

"The seeing thing? Never, just this once," Desmond said, arms crossed across his chest.

"Have the AI REM interfaced with you?"

"Yes."

"Can you move when they do?"

"Yes."

"How often does this happen?"

Desmond shrugged, "They did it a few times before the world went to shit, and then while I was away they gave me updates once a week or so in my sleep. So I knew I was going the right direction, since those in their cores were unable."

Cain appraised him a moment, "REM interfacing is forced dreamsharing," Cain said and Desmond felt the lift starting to slow. "The AI, as living, could all probably dreamshare, meaning they had the ability in death. It isn't something that can be learned like regular _sikaz_ skills, you are either born with it, or you're not," the lift glided to a stop and Cain stepped out.

"What's _sikaz_?" Desmond asked, it sounded vaguely proeathan but not Ilythian.

"A proeathan word, it describes, in general, the abilities of the sixth sense. Telekinesis, Seeing, intuition, mind reading-

"Woah wait you can read minds," Desmond interrupted, walking beside Cain.

"Its even rarer than Seeing, and like it you must be born with it. I've only heard of a handful of proeathans who could do it, and it was always imperfect. The mind is not linear, there is no such thing as linear mind reading like in books where you hear someone's thoughts. Its a nearly useless skill because everyone's mind works differently."

"Can you read minds? Also how do you know that?"

"I can't. But I knew someone who did."

Desmond paused and they stopped walking, "You know I really wanna ask about that but I know you won't answer."

Cain just grinned, "You're right," he said. "And here we are."

Desmond looked up a bit, "This is Venus," he said. Venus had been pretty heavily guarded by the Adjatevs when Desmond had shown up, but the Ilythians had taken care of the forces there. They'd managed to get in, open the vault and loot the storehouse of thousands of useful artifacts and leave before the Adjatevs had sent backup. Everything had been transferred to one of the Ilythians large numia and like Artemis had copied herself into the numia so effectively the numia _was_ Venus. Along with goodies from Artemis it'd been sitting down in the hanger since the Ilythians had arrived.

"Yes. Open her up."

"Venus," Desmond called.

The hologram appeared in the shape of Altair, only he looked different. Younger, somehow, even though he still only looked in his late twenties, but he didn't have the lines on his forehead or mouth like he did now. "Hello," she said with Altair's voice.

"Open the numia, we need to get in."

"Of course," she said and the door opened above and a gangway came down. "What do you need?" she asked as they walked up the gangway.

"I don't know, ask him," Desmond said, jerking his thumb back to indicate Cain.

"I don't know what you call it. I'll know it when I see it," was all Cain said when they got up into the numia. "Though an… oh gods what do you call it in this time?" he asked himself softly. "Apple! Right, Apple, one of those would be nice."

Desmond eyed Cain warily at that even as Venus said, "Of course." A light appeared over one of the racks deep inside Venus' hold, "I've marked their placement for your connivence."

"Man," Cain said slowly, "Too bad Abel is this helpful, eh Desmond?" Cain asked Desmond and it took Desmond a solid minute to reason Cain had just _made a joke_. Not that it was a bad joke. He just couldn't even think about Cain ever _joking_ about anything. He was always Mr. Cool and Serious and Desmond had abruptly come to terms with the fact that Cain was old as hell, had probably had kids, and told horrible dad jokes at _some point_ in his life. And that meant Altair and Ezio probably had too. Desmond suddenly didn't know what was real anymore. "You coming?" Cain called from in between Venus' aisles.

"Yeah," Desmond called back weakly before following after Cain. He was silent for a few minutes as Cain looked for whatever he was looking for, before he couldn't take it anymore. "Hey, Cain," he said.

"Hmm?"

"You ever have kids? I mean I know you said you were asexual but-

"But?" Cain asked and damn guy was amused by his stumbling. Asshole.

"Were you always?"

Cain chuckled a little, "I believe the saying is; once upon a time," he didn't seem sad though like when the others talked about their wives or kids or their lives before this century. "I was a father to _many_ children," he admitted, "maybe not as many as some people I knew, but for your time it was many."

"Like _how_ many?"

Cain didn't answer right away. "More than twelve, less than twenty. I don't remember them all."

Desmond stared at him, "Seriously? You don't remember?"

Cain looked at him, "I am _unimaginably_ old," he said, "old enough that humans have a hard time understanding that distance of time. I remember a lot, but I can't remember everything."

"Seems like it," Desmond grumbled as Cain went back to looking, and he followed behind grudgingly, nearly dragging his feet.

"I remember things that are important. My children, not so much. They're all dead now, and my descendants probably are too. I have no time for the dead."

"Harsh."

"You'd think so. But the past is over. The future will come as it does, the only thing that matters is the present, and at best, your plan for the next three days."

"Where'd you get that sort of logic?"

"Being locked in a box for over a hundred years," and that shut Desmond right up. They walked a bit more then Cain stopped, "Ah, here it is," and he opened a drawer and pulled out a canister.

"What is that?" Desmond asked.

"You'll see," was all Cain said and then went to towards the marker Venus had placed where there was a large trunk that he popped open and there were a few dozen Apples sitting in something similar to an egg carton, on top of each other in neat order. "Well," Cain said, "that's quite a lot of them."

"We took all of them," Desmond said, "they're too dangerous to normal people."

"They can be," and Cain picked one up, tossed it at Desmond thoughtlessly, took another one and that also got thrown to Desmond who nearly fumbled it. He took a third one for himself.

"So what are we going to do with these?" Desmond asked.

"Can you scry?" Cain answered his question with a question and headed for the exit.

"Uh, I did once with Altair's help," he said.

"It'll be like that," was Cain's answer and they left Venus.

"You haven't told me anything," Desmond said irritably.

"Knowing is a burden," Cain said.

"What bullshit is that," Desmond snapped.

Cain looked at him, "You just say that because you know _nothing_," and Desmond was taken aback. They entered the lift and Cain keyed in their next destination. "Altair knows. He's old enough to understand and know actual secrets and mysteries in the world. Knowing can be a burden. Clay knows _some_, but he doesn't know _enough_, he knows pieces, bits and half truths and some lies but he doesn't _know_. It made him hate you if I'm not mistaken," he said to Desmond.

"I straightened it out, he doesn't hate me."

"He didn't know why he hated you though. Because you raised Atlantis, big deal," he couldn't see Cain roll his eyes but he could hear it.

"I'd say it is."

"But he doesn't know _why_ he cares so much," Cain said, "What did excuse did he give for his hatred?"

"That I was the antichrist."

Cain seemed amused. "Death maybe, but the _stadalla_ is nothing but."

"Hey that isn't-

"I know," Cain said, "the middle. But for there to be a middle there must be a beginning, a middle, and an end, and to start something new you need an end." He looked over at Desmond, "You are an end," he said, "maybe that's why you annoy me so much."

"_Me_, annoy _you_? Do you not know how fucking frustrating you are?"

"I chose to be," Cain said.

"You fucker," Desmond grumbled. Cain knew exactly what he was doing and that was the most infuriating thing ever. "Why?"

"Because I want to."

"No wonder Altair hates you."

"Which is odd since he picked up this particular habit from me," the lift stopped, they got off.

"Where are we going?" Cain didn't answer. "Cain."

"Here," and the door irised open. Like most of the rooms in Demeter it was a green house with lush foliage. This one was a greenhouse of grass, which was weird. Samples of grass was arranged in clumps all and it was so weird to think Demeter kept _grass_ to protect. "I like this garden," Cain said and sat on a piece of the turf. He put the Apple in front of him and Desmond sat across from him. "Put them on either side of your knees," Cain directed him and Desmond crossed his legs and did so.

"You going to tell me what this has to do with dreamsharing?" Desmond asked.

"You don't know how to dreamshare on your own, someone forces you into it. From the sound of it usually an AI interfaces with you, triggering your natural ability. Because AI aren't actual conciouses, they exist in a near constant state of half sleeping, half waking, able to access the parts of their brains they could only have done, while alive, when awake or asleep. Thus they can dreamshare at any time."

"Can I do that?"

"No," Cain said, "dreamsharing is only achievable when your conscious mind is at rest. Don't ask me why, I don't know. _Sikaz_ is odd like that, sometimes you can't explain _why_ they work the way they do, only that they do."

"Like math," Desmond said.

"Exactly," Cain said. He took the capsule, which was about as big as a thermos, and unscrewed it it, popping it in half. "Do you know what an Apple is?"

"Uh—?"

Cain sighed a little, "You literally know nothing," he said. "Before the fall of the proeathans there were people like you," he was looking Desmond dead in the eye, completely serious, "or maybe, more like people like Lucy. The proeathans called them angels, well, that would be the translation, every language had a different name, but you get the idea. They were gifted in ways like the proeathans, but different. The proeathans owned them, and trained their slaves in the ways they'd been trained, crippling whatever natural gift they had into something the proeathans understood. They were runaway hunters, or were brought around when there was an uprising, they'd infiltrate the uprising, because they were human, and kill the leaders. It was amazingly successful for centuries before the humans caught on.

"When the human was near death, old age, too hurt or weak to continue to live, the proeathans would do to them what they did to the AI," Cain picked up the Apple in front of him and Desmond stared at him. "An Apple is alive. It has wants, and desires and most are very, _very_, angry and demand destruction, which is why those without the right sort of blood usually go mad. All smart proeathan tools contain one of these ancient people, slaves even after death. Most are wretched and will fight every chance they can, make your life difficult, drive you insane, make you blood thirsty or delusional, show you illusions of what you most desire. There are reasons you modern humans call them Pieces of Eden; they are temptation given form. They show you what you want, but like Eve's apple, they will only lead to ruin.

"The entity within these vessels were incredibly powerful psychics as far as humans went," Cain continued, "and every single one of them was a dreamwalker. I heard stories once of entire barracks of angels sleeping for days at a time, dreamsharing, sometimes with angels across continents."

"What about?" Desmond heard himself ask.

Cain smiled a little, "The proeathans always asked. It wasn't until the end that the angels answered. They dreamed of a world were there were no more proeathans. It made them scared. Dozens of angels were culled, forced into vessels, but hundreds escaped. Eve was the one who formed them together again, and they started to use the skills they'd been given to attack the proeathans."

"Okay maybe stupid question; but what about Adam?"

"The way I heard it Adam was captured during a fight, the proeathans sent him back to Eve in a vessel." Desmond paled a little. "She then used that vessel to end the war-

"Not start it?"

"The war had existed in small scale for centuries. Unhappy humans rising up, causing noise. The proeathans sent their pets, it was stopped, probably most of those humans were killed. But what Eve did was different. She crippled the proeathans."

"How?"

"I don't know," Cain said. "I only know the stories."

"You mean you weren't there?" Desmond asked sarcastically.

Cain smirked, "I'm not that old."

"You'd like us to think you are."

"I'm not that old," he said again. "You asked what this has to do with dreamsharing," Cain put the Apple down again. "This is how you learn," and he picked up the canister and upended it into his palm. A clear, glass-like, sphere plopped onto his palm. He placed that between them and then he put his hand on the Apple again, the Apple began to glow.

"I have a question," Desmond said.

"Yes?"

"If these things hate the proeathans, why do they react to them?"

"They don't," Cain said, "Proeathans don't use Apples. They were tools of angels."

"But they react to my proeathan blood."

"No," Cain said, "They react to your abilities. The vessels know themselves, and know when one who uses them is like them. A proeathan can force a vessel to obey, but usually they rebel. They were never meant for proeathans."

"But I'm not an angel," Desmond said.

"No," Cain said, "you're not. But you're close enough. You're a mix, human, and proeathan, and while most modern humans don't birth people like angels anymore, the mix between the two species is enough to _mimic_ an angel. People with too much proeathan blood can't use Pieces of Eden; but humans can. Now, are you ready to dreamwalk?"

"I mean… I guess?"

"Do you hear the singing?" Cain asked, the Apple glowed brighter and brighter till it hurt to look at. And when Desmond paid attention he noticed, yes, he did, a jumble of notes he'd been ignoring till now, but now sounded so clear.

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Focus on the singing," Cain said, "and don't throw up."

"Don't what?" and then the snap of nausea overwhelmed him like when Altair had taught him to scry years ago. Desmond jumped to his feet, walked off, doubled over, and vomited. The song stopped and Desmond felt sick and gross and dizzy.

"I said don't throw up." Desmond just raised his hand towards Cain with the middle finger up. "I assume that's some sort of disrespectful sign language?"

"Fuck you," Desmond said and spit out the remaining bile in the back of his throat.

"I thought we agreed you'd come up with better insults than ones involving your penis," Cain said.

"Fuck. Off," Desmond growled. He glanced at Cain long enough to see him roll his eyes. "Euhg," he spit again.

"Would you like some water?" Demeter suddenly asked.

"Yes, please Demeter that would be fantastic," Desmond said and in the track that separated two patches of, apparently, different grass a little stand rose up with a round bottle on it. Desmond went over to it, opened it and sipped, rinsed his mouth, spit, and then drank.

"Stop being so dramatic," Cain said.

"Fuck you- Hey!" he cried when Cain lobbed the canister at him and hit him in the chest. "What the hell, Cain?" he demanded.

"Every time you say that I'm going to throw something at you," Cain said. "Be better," he said seriously. "You're the savior of the world, _act like it_."

"Fuck off, man- Stop that!" he yelled when Cain threw the other half of the canister and this time hit Desmond in the chin.

"Be _better_," Cain said, looking at Desmond with intense eyes. "Now get back over here," he ordered and Desmond went, grumbling as he did so, and sat positioning the Apples next to his knees again. "This time don't throw up."

"Nothing left to throw up."

"Good," and then the Apple started to glow again. The singing came, faster this time, and Desmond felt the wave of nausea. Like with the scrying though Desmond pushed through, didn't vomit. And then he was in the white room with Cain; only they weren't alone.


	15. Mihirungs

So I answered most of the reviews over on my blog. If you asked any between when I posted that post and now you're gonna have to wait for the next big reply thing.

In which I continue to say a lot about Cain while not actually saying anything *snickers*

* * *

><p>Desmond looked around, there were three people standing with them, all shorter than him and had shaved heads, though they couldn't have looked more different. One was like a stump, she was huge and wide, with massive arms and shoulders. One of the men was rail thin with skin so tight they looked like a skeleton covered in skin. And the last man was lean and muscular with a face like a shark. Desmond looked at them and while he could understand their shapes he couldn't recall, even while looking directly at them, details of what they looked like. The color of their eyes, the color of their skin or hair, or if they wore clothes. He just got the <em>sense<em> of them.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" the woman whispered and it was a tickle in Desmond's ear, and so succulent Desmond wanted to drink it. He oddly felt suddenly aroused and it was the strangest thing.

"The _stadalla_ came," Cain said and Desmond started when suddenly the three figured appeared on all sides, looking up at him but he couldn't decide if they were angry or not. All he knew was that they stared at him with intelligent eyes, ones like birds of prey, hard and sharp and yet reptilian. It made Desmond swallow.

"What are you doing here?" the skeletal man said, his breath hot on Desmond's face and smelled rancid and Desmond felt, of all things, hungry. He was suddenly famished and wanted to leave, go eat.

"Who are you?" the last man said and as one the three turned and stared at Cain.

"Cain," he said.

They took a step back, away from Desmond, and Cain. "A Cain; how _quaint_," the skeletal man said, sneering.

"OF COURSE YOU ARE," the woman said, still whispering sultrily. "WHAT DO YOU WANT? ONLY DEMONS DWELL HERE."

"The _stadalla_ needs training," Cain said, and Desmond felt the weight of three sets of eyes on him when they looked at him.

"He is _no angel_," the shark-faced man hissed, "he is proeathan made. Don't think we'll help something proeathan ever again-

"NOT AFTER WHAT THEY DID TO US."

"Years of devoted servitude," the skeletal man said.

"And for what?"

"FOR THEM TO DESTROY US?"

"To turn us into demons?" the shark-faced man said.

"WE THINK NOT."

Cain huffed, "Uh," Desmond looked at Cain, "what?"

"Don't be difficult with me. You know if you don't do it he can just make you. He's angelic enough."

"Fool!" the skeletal man cried.

"Shut up," Cain said and they seemed taken aback. "You're angry, we know. We also don't care. The _stadalla_ needs help learning to dreamshare. You know proeathans can't do that."

They turned and looked at Desmond who swallowed and leaned back a little, "Uh…" There was a pregnant silence, "Someone wanna fill me in here?"

"These are the angels the proeathans locked inside these vessels. But like most angelic vessels, they're being difficult without being pushed into something."

"So… what? I have to tell them to do it?"

"They cannot disobey-

"Lies," the woman shrieked.

"Shut up," Desmond snapped and she abruptly fell silent. "Fuck," he rubbed his forehead. "I need to learn to dreamshare, the proeathans are projecting futures into my mind and I don't know if they're real or not. I need to be able to control it."

The angels looked between each other and said nothing, though Desmond recognized it as the same quiet the AIs took when they spoke amongst each other. "WE'LL HELP YOU," the woman whispered.

"Good-

"On a condition," the skeleton said.

Desmond sighed, "Okay, _what_?"

"When we are done, you will destroy us," shark-face said.

"Seriously?"

"ETERNAL LIFE IS ETERNAL SUFFERING_,_" the woman said, "WE HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH. DESTROY US."

"Well… I mean okay I guess," Desmond said.

"Then you have our help, _stadalla_," shark-face said.

"Okay, so uh… what do I call you I guess?" he said awkwardly.

"I AM LUSS," the woman said.

"Hegrar," the skeleton said.

"Pind," shark face said.

"And I'm Desmond."

They turned to Cain, "You have not given us your name yet, _Cain_," Pind sneered.

Cain just grinned a cheeky grin, "Cain is fine."

"YOU REMIND ME OF DEST. HE WAS A SMUG BASTARD TOO."

"I aim to misbehave," Cain said and Desmond realized that was an Altair line. Well that was weird.

"Do you scry, _stadalla_?" Hegrar asked.

"Yes," Desmond said.

"And you future see?"

"Yes," he nodded slowly.

The three looked between each other, "This will be easier than we anticipated," and he didn't like how they were grinning at him.

—

When Desmond could feel his body again he felt strange, awake and asleep at the same time and yet ready to go do sprints. The singing he'd always heard now didn't sound like singing; but rather screaming.

Opposite him Cain was opening his eyes slowly and picked up the crystal sphere. "Not bad for your first time," he said.

"I… I don't remember any of it," Desmond said, looking around, feeling confused.

"It will return to you, give it time. Something like this is always a stress for the mind, even for a psychic like you-

"Woah woah, back up. _Psychic_?"

"Well… of course?"

"You mean like those people who can like feel spirits and shit- Fuck's sake Cain! Knock it- HEY!" Cain first threw the sphere at him and then the Apple. Both hit him in the chest and the Apple landed right on his crotch. That kinda hurt.

"Be better," Cain said.

"Fu-" Desmond held his tongue because Cain was out of shit to throw, but he wouldn't put it past Cain to strike him. Rebel Desmond might be he also knew how negative reinforcement worked. "Step off," he growled and Cain just gave him a pleasant look. Okay, no smacks for that one.

"And yes, in a sense I guess," Cain said. "The ones you're speaking of are empaths, a type of psychic. But you are not that type."

"Man when you say it like that I sound like one of the freaking X-men," Cain just looked confused, "a mutant with super powers."

"Well, that's exactly what you are," Cain said. "A genetic hiccup. Now get up," he got to his feet effortlessly. "What do you remember?"

"I remember meeting the three of them," Desmond said slowly. "Also what the hell they called themselves demons?" Cain shrugged. "You _did not_just shrug at me."

"I don't know. I would assume that is where the idea came from. Angels, divine warriors sent from some higher power to kill the rebels. Then they rebelled, and when they did they Fell in battle or at the hands of that higher power, and became demons. Modern mythology is _filled_ with stories that were told since the end of the war, changing until they are their modern embodiments."

"Yeah, like what?"

"Well all the norse gods are proeathans," Cain said simply, "Odin was Ilythian."

"Wait… wait _what_?"

"You can ask Od when you see him. But I believe Demeter has news for us?"

"Yes," Demeter said, "Od's scout has arrived at the mine. You're needed in the command center, Desmond."

"Right, on my way," and he started off, and then looked back at Cain who wasn't following. "You coming?"

"I know what will happen," Cain said.

"How?"

"Because you will make hard choices," Cain said.

"You said that was a bomb."

"It is."

"What hard choice do you think I'll make?"

"You'll figure it out."

"Did you see it in the future?"

"No," Cain said.

"Then how do you know?"

"Because while we were with the angels you already decided, that the right choice, was the hard choice. I don't need to go. I know what you'll say."

Desmond frowned, "You're really fucking weird."

Cain smiled a little, "You're already better. Continue to make good choices, Desmond."

"Riiiiight. See you Cain."

"Don't let Altair tell you what to do," he called after Desmond as he left the garden.

—

The command room that had been designated grounds for both Ilythians and humans was filled with people. Desmond entered to most people looking at a screen of video being sent back to them from the numia.

"Ah, there you are," Altair said when he saw Desmond and pulled him to where the others were. "Where were you?"

"Training," was all he said.

"Well this is it," Altair said.

He looked at the screen. It was the mine, only now it was filled with people, humans. Toiling in the hot sun, carving out salt for the proeathans. Great machines were used to bring the rock up from the quarry levels, but all the mining was being done on a personal level with powered hammers and jacks. The people, a mix of colored skin, were powdered white from the dust sticking to their skin.

"We know how many people there are in there?"

"Few hundred, not as many as the plantations. Much of the digging is automated, or just needs a guiding hand on the machines," Hawk said.

"This isn't like what I saw," Desmond said, eyes darting around the screen. "The mine… that _is_ the mine I saw but, its full. The one I saw was empty."

"Maybe we took the people away," Jake said, "before it happened. With our numbers we could easily overpower the proeathans there."

Desmond frowned, it felt wrong. Something in his gut felt so utterly _wrong_ about this situation. "So, we should go, right?" Ezio asked.

"Where's Od?" Desmond asked.

"Over there," Altair pointed to Od and some Ilythians, looking at a monitor in front of them. He went over to them

"_Ah, Desmond, you're here_," Od said in Ilythian.

"Can you numia track high energy signatures?"

"_Within a radius. Why?_"

"I want them to see if they can pin point where that bomb might be," Desmond said.

Od frowned but relayed the information to his scouts. As he was doing so the picture suddenly cut out. "_Someone get comms back!"_ Od cried, ordering his men into action. "_What happened?_"

"_We lost everything_," one of the Ilythian techs said. "_Video, comms. Its dead."_

_"No! Get it back, now!" _Od yelled, "_We do not just _lose_ part of our nation to Adjatev _keens_."_

_"We're trying, Ando," _another tech said.

Minutes ticked by, then, all at once the big screen lit up again. This time the camera was on the ground, and the image flickering. They could see some smoke and after a second garbled audio cut it. Desmond, or any of the humans, didn't know what they were saying. The image continued to cut in and out and finally died again.

"_The scouts have been compromised, Ando_."

"_To the holes with those Adjatevs_," Od growled, showing a rare moment of anger. He looked at Desmond "_We need to recover our fallen men and free those humans." _Desmond looked at Od but wasn't seeing him. He was suddenly remembering. The angels had shown him what that vision had been, before proeathan tampering. There was no bomb. "_Desmond_," Od barked his name.

"Its a trap," Desmond said and Cain's words rushed to him. He'd make the right choice, but it wouldn't be an easy one.

"_What_?" Od asked.

"This is all a trap," he said and then turned back around and looked at his ancestors, "There is no bomb," he said.

"What?" now it was their turn.

"My vision was wrong," he felt like he was dreaming, a waking dream. No, no, not dreaming, dreamsharing. Everything looked so crisp and clear and in focus and things fell into place in the most horrible way.

"Then what was it?" Jake asked.

"A lure, to get us to go to the quarry, free the humans."

"That sounds pretty good to me," Shaun said.

"No… no you don't understand," and he smiled a macabre smile. He looked back at Od, "I know about angels," he said. Od looked down somewhat shamefully. "And this is a tactic they used before."

"It could be," Od said.

"Wait, what? What angels? Desmond what are you talking about?"

"Angels were humans the proeathans trained to quell uprisings. They'd infiltrate the rebellion and kill the leaders, cut off all the heads of the weed. They're doing it now."

"You can't know that. You also can't know they won't blow that place up if we _don't_ go," Jake said.

"_And my men-_

"Your men are already dead, Od. You know that," Desmond said somberly.

"So what's this mean?" Altair asked slowly.

"We aren't going," Desmond said.

"Desmond we've already got everyone ready."

"We aren't going," Desmond said again, firmer this time.

"But those people could die," Ezio said.

"Then they will die," and there was a stunned silence to his words.

"You can't be serious," Shaun said, "there aren't enough of us left. We can't afford those loses."

"We can," Desmond said, "we will. No one is leaving Demeter, for anything. The Adjatevs think we'll fall into a trap by sending me visions. I'm calling their bluff."

"Desmond you can't-

"I am," Desmond said, "Don't forget who's in charge here."

"_Desmond this is unreasonable,_" Od said.

"You're condemning those people to death," Shaun snapped.

"Then they will die," Desmond said and hated Cain for being right. It wasn't an easy decision, or one he wanted to make, but in the end; it was the right one. He hated it but it was the right decision.

The others stared at him, some of them seemed stunned, a few looked confused. "What happened to you?" Altair asked softly.

"I told you," Desmond said firmly, "I'm not that kid I was six months ago. I'm different."

"You're out of control."

"No," Desmond said, "I'm _in_ control," and he felt his anger licking at his fingertips. So easy. Anger was easy. Control it, don't let it control you. "Sacrifices must be made."

"I've killed me who've said things like that," Ezio said.

Desmond lifted his arms to his side and prepared himself to go into the sixth sense, "Then try," he said. None of them moved. He lowered his arms. "I don't like making this decision, but it is my decision. Whatever happens at that quarry is out of our hands now. I can't risk the Adjatevs finding Demeter with a plant in the form of a human we might rescue."

"So you'll sacrifice innocents?" Jake demanded, unlike Desmond he was _furious_.

"I'm why six billion people are dead, Jacob," and Jake flinched, "I can handle a few hundred more without losing anymore sleep than I already do."

"Fuck you then," and Jake stormed out, knowing he wasn't going to win.

"You're really doing this?" Altair asked.

"I am. Demeter," he added, "Make sure no one leaves the ark. I don't want any mistakes."

"Of course," Demeter said in her patient, measured, tone.

Desmond sighed and looked down, "I'm sorry, really. But this is the way it is. Tell your men to stand down, there's no assault now," and he headed for the door. The others stepped out of his way and he didn't miss how none of them wanted to touch him. He lowered his head as he left.

Cain didn't seem surprised when he showed up back at the grass garden. "How'd it go?" Cain asked.

Desmond said nothing, he just sat and looked at Cain, "I need to get better." Cain just nodded and handed him two of the Apples.


	16. Bird of Paradise

_excuse you_

the President of the Cain fan club is _me_

Cain is now in the fic Circadian Rythmn, it's pretty long and kinda barely not pwp for a while so if you wanna just skip _right_ to Cain start at Part Four, I've provided a summary up to that point if you're just interested in Cain and honestly the rest of the story isn't required for the enjoyment of part four XD

Also for Cain fans; really just read Zealous Servant. Spayar is very similar to Cain so if you enjoy Cain as a character/his personality you'd probably enjoy Spayar

* * *

><p>Lucy was waiting for him where they usually practiced and Desmond felt like a worn out noodle. He hadn't slept last night, afraid of what would be in his dreams. He could still see the angels when he closed his eyes too, with their unblinking eyes, and their voices that echoed across the white room. He had more control now, but nothing that could stop some proeathan from coming in and rearranging his dreams.<p>

"Hey," she said when she saw him and he sat on the ground with a grunt. "Everyone's talking about yesterday."

He eyed her, "And how do you know? You don't talk to anyone."

She gave him an unamused look, "I talk to people thanks. I talk to Jake, I talk to Shaun and Rebecca-

"I know I know I was teasing, relax," Desmond said.

"Oh," and she looked chastened she'd reacted so strongly, though he was sure sometimes they did bring it up, just like him 'you never talk to anyone'.

"What are they saying?" Desmond asked.

"The normal people were told it was a false alarm, the scout reported the mine as being empty."

"Yeah?" Meaning everyone at the command center had been told not to talk, he wondered how long that would last.

"Shaun thinks your out of control," she said.

"Shaun doesn't know anything," he said.

"You could have saved those people." Desmond opened his mouth to argue, not that she was wrong, they could have, "But it was trap?" After a second he nodded. "You made the right choice," she said.

"Wow really? Everyone gave me the cold shoulder when I did and I figured you would most of all."

Her brow furrowed, "Why would you think that?"

"I dunno the whole 'Angel of the Lake' thing you got going on," Desmond said with a heavy dose of sarcastic mystysism that made Lucy giggle. Man that was so cute.

"Not a title I chose," she said. "They just… gave it to me, along with their preconcieved bullshit about how I have to be."

"Yeah, I know how that is," Desmond said and leaned back on his elbows.

"You had to make a shitty decision to let whatever might happen to those people at the mine happen."

"I probably condemed those people to die," Desmond said.

"Sometimes the innocent have to die for the greater good," she said and was surprised when she didn't look away from him or flinch when she said it. Before she always had, even before what had happened at Rome. She couldn't separate herself from that girl his father had basically left in the Abstergo tower, alone, until someone found out about her and killed her. Or the girl who felt the guilt of all the people she'd watched and let suffer in the Animus. Clay's death, what had happened to Daniel (even though she hadn't been involved), all the Subjects she'd combed the minds of looking for Altair.

"Heh… yeah, tell that to Them. They think I'm cracked," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"We're all a little cracked," Lucy said. "Honestly I think the most put together people in this place are Cain and Ezio. Everyone else is just… struggling."

"I never thought I'd hear Ezio likened to Cain in my life," Desmond said.

"They have no worries," she said, "Ezio knows he'll live forever, and all he has to do is whatever Altair tells him. Cain is above worrying about the world, whatever happens, happen."

Desmond said nothing for a second, "Yeah," he agreed. "I should take that mindset," and he rapped his knuckles on his temple. "Would make my life easier," he sighed.

"Or maybe not. I mean if I did that I'd be a cult leader," Lucy said and Desmond laughed.

"Well not for nothing but I'd join anything you were a part of," Desmond said before he could stop himself and realized he might have just made it weird. "Sorry, I didn't-

"Its okay," Lucy said, "I understand," and she had this look in her eye Desmond didn't quite get. It was almost like 'I know you can't help yourself' but not in a good way. "So, are we going to do this or just sit around?" she asked.

"I dunno I kinda like the second one," Desmond said and yawned. "I mean I don't really know how to go further with you on what you wanna do. Whatever you have, its like nothing I got, or anything I've seen the Ilythians use, so I have no idea how to move to the next step."

"Do you think I could have something like Eagle Vision?"

"Honestly? I have no clue. The Ilythians said no-

"The Ilythians are proeathans, and lie," she reminded him.

"Yeah I know, they can. But if it could be moved further I think even they would see the merit in training you."

"Desmond, they don't even see me as a real person," she reminded him, "Much less any gift I might have being 'significant' enough to train."

Desmond frowned, 'Sorry," he said, "I just," he stopped, looked at the ceiling then laid back on the grass. Lucy looked down at him. "Cain told me gifted humans could do this thing, a long time ago."

"What was it?"

"They called it dreamsharing. You go to sleep and can access another person's subconscious brain. Talk to them, manipulate their dream space."

"You sound like you know."

Desmond looked up at her, "The Adjatevs tricked me through dreamsharing," he said, "they made me see a bomb."

"I thought you said it was a human thing?"

"It is, though some proeathans can do it," he rubbed his head, "The entire thing is so… unreal honestly."

"Says the guy who glows," Lucy said and she grinned when he gave her an unamused look.

"Hey, at least I know how to control the glow. This dreamsharing bullshit, I can't even start wrapping my head around it. Bad enough the AIs are like 'oh we REM interface with you while you sleep' and act like its totally normal only its not."

"No?"

"Humans can't do it anymore," Desmond said. "I'm just… Mr. Jimmy Special again," he huffed.

"Special Snowflake Desmond Miles," Lucy teased him.

"Uhhhg," Desmond groaned but that just made her laugh at his pain.

She laid down on the grass next to him, "So no training today?"

"I don't know what else to do for you. I mean it isn't like there is much to go on. You can see active camo, okay," and he let it hang. But there wasn't much else.

"I guess," she said and rolled onto her side, towards him and Desmond looked. Oh he totally looked. Her shirt rode up just _a tiny bit_ but holy shit he was thirsty enough that that was enough. She grabbed one of his hands and yanked the glove off. He wasn't glowing, but the glyphs were still cut into his skin. Not even scarred either, just perfectly made dents in his skin in the shape of the glyphs. "How _did _you get these exactly?" she asked, looking at his hand from all angles with the glyphs covered his fingers, palms, and back of his hands.

"When I raised Atlantis," Desmond said and with a bit of concentration made the glyphs all down his arm glow, he could see several of the lights in the green house starting to flicker.

"How did you do that?"

"There's this thing in the middle of the Pacific," Desmond said, "I think its called the Dragon's Triangle? Its the Pacific Bermuda Triangle," she nodded. "There's an _impossibly_ old structure there, right in the middle. I went there-

"How?"

"I took a boat."

"But how did you get to the structure?" Lucy continued.

"Sea levels are way down during the winter-

"But a structure that size? We would have known about it."

"I don't know okay?" Desmond huffed. "I think the proeathans unearthed it, for me to eventually raise Atlantis once they'd stamped out human resistance. Atlantis, and the Unnamed resonate on a psionic level, though both at different frequencies. Atlantis resonates with the Eden. You know what that is?"

"Hera explained it once," Lucy swallowed, still holding his hand, "Its how they control us, right?"

"Yeah," Desmond said and stared at the ceiling. "Eden is the-" he paused, made a face and then committed to the scifi sounding bullshit, "psionic frequency human brains resonate at and can feel."

"What about the Unnamed? You said it does that too," Lucy said.

"See the funny thing is, the proeathans built Atlantis for the specific reason to _cancel out_ the frequency the Unnamed resonates at. The Eden was a surprising side effect that the proeathans quickly harnessed that made all their slave controlling tools Eden resonating things. Anyway," he got back on topic, "I went to the structure. And nothing worked. I mean literally nothing. But Artemis and Mercury _assured_ me it worked. I started it," though oddly it had been the one proeathan thing that hadn't taken hid blood. Though the structure hadn't been very proeathan-like. The building had been made of some sort of white stone and was barren of their usual interior designs. "Basically I had to grab this floaty ball thing out of the air when it started to levitate-

"You use such good descriptions," Lucy said and he couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not.

"I had to complete a parkour platforming style puzzle in Rome are you really questioning me right now?" he asked back sarcastically and that made Lucy laugh so hard she had to cover her mouth.

"Go on, go on," she gasped once she'd gotten a hold of herself.

"Dang disrespectful kid," Desmond muttered sarcastically, Lucy gave him a look. "What? You're like four years old," he said defensively. She just gave him a firm poke in the ribs.

"Then that would make you a pedophile," she said in a very serious tone.

"… Okay I take the entire thing back!" he said and again, made her laugh. For a second Desmond was just so distracted by it. She had a wonderful laugh. "So, okay I had to get a hold of a levitating glowing ball and the AIs walked me through what I was doing. And then there was this _huge_ pulse of energy, like it shot right into the sky and was a giant sign that was like 'hey, I'm here, come kidnap me,'" he waved his free hand above him. "I passed out and when I woke up the glyphs had been burned into my skin and the AIs were yelling at me to wake up because the proeathans were coming. So I had to leave before I could investigate too much. But that's why they're like this now," he rolled up one sleeve a bit, showing off more.

"They go everywhere?" Lucy asked.

"Everywhere."

"_Everywhere_?" she asked and Desmond thought that was weird. She'd _seen_ them on his dick. How did you forget glowing penis? Then he remembered. Right Hera had memory wiped her of him. He felt cold all at once.

"Everywhere," Desmond said cooly and tugged his hand from hers, he made the glowing fade.

"You know what they're for yet?"

"They point towards the Unnamed," he said, "which is why I raised the damn city in the first place."

"You'll get there," Lucy said.

"No shit I will," Desmond said. "I don't care what I have to do; I am getting to Atlantis."

"Even piss off Altair?"

"_Especially_ piss off Altair," and Lucy giggled a little again.


	17. Carotenoids

there's a new Q&A up on my blog for the past few chapters. And DS did a bunch of Q&A asks for CR and I should tell you he was _really_ happy to get those asks c: I will not be answering any questions you might have about CR and feel the need to post here. If you have them go ask del-sin.

I also have a patreon I would love if you looked at and thought about contributing to: patreon dot com slash xazz

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><p>It was like nothing had happened. Desmond had thought about what would happen in Demeter when people found out. But really, no one knew, nothing changed, though people seem confused as to why they hadn't gone to investigate the mine. The lie about it being empty was accepted. The training of the commanding officers continued, as did the testing for Eagle Vision. Nothing could be stopped, as their date with Atlantis couldn't be moved. The army needed to be ready, they had to come up with a plan to get through the barricade that no doubt would surround the city. Desmond's training with Cain and the angels continued uninterrupted though he didn't seem to be <em>getting<em> anywhere with it.

Desmond wasn't sleeping.

Sleep plagued him like the lingering smell of perfume when a woman walked by. He knew it was there, but it escaped him, tantalized him and made him want, but he couldn't have it.

A year ago, after they'd left Russia, as they crossed over the north of Africa, Desmond had had trouble sleeping. Too much guilt kept him awake at night till he surname to exhaustion and slept fitfully until the sun rose.

This wasn't like that.

The fear of sleep kept him awake, restless, prowling the halls of Demeter at all hours. More than once he ran into Altair in the training area. He hadn't been surprised to see Altair. He'd seen the ancient sleep for real only a few times. Once was in Russia, the night he'd wandered into the snow, and the other was the day he'd returned with Cain's head and collapsed in exhaustion. The others, if there were others, he couldn't remember. He made a point to try and avoid Altair at night, so he wouldn't know Desmond wasn't sleeping. He wouldn't be happy. And as much as Desmond didn't give a shit if Altair was happy or not, he didn't like making people worry needlessly.

Sometimes he managed to catch five or so minutes of sleep. But with the angels' training all his dreams were lucid and he instantly knew he was dreamsharing because he'd be in that star field. That was enough to wake him. His poor mind was a leaking ceiling, even with the block, he still sometimes felt Ezio and Altair's influence in his movements, in his decisions. If those got through when he was awake, what would it be like when he was asleep? What slipped through the cracks then? It was just better if he didn't sleep at all.

He hid it well at least. While walking across the world he was used to staying awake, to walking late into the night before falling asleep. He knew how to function on little to no sleep.

The only one who seemed to notice was Cain.

Maybe he knew the signs? Altair had always been an insomniac, even before becoming immortal. Old age hadn't made Altair sleepless, he had always been.

One night saw Desmond at one of the animal gardens. Demeter had rapidly grown several herds of livestock animals for the use of the people in her care. Cows, goats, pigs, sheep, oxen and even chickens and turkeys, all for eating or getting milk or eggs. There were butchers in Demeter who handled the killing of the animals of that day, and they never slaughtered more than the ark could eat since the animals were a valuable resource as Demeter could only grow more so quickly without them degrading.

He had cows eating apples out of his hands. They were such huge, gentle, creatures with their big eyes and long lashes. He remembered when he'd slaughtered a cow in Spain. These were dairy cows though and in the morning a hoard of people would show up with buckets and pails and milk the cows. Some would go to make things like cheese or sour cream and apparently on rare occasions ice cream. The rest would go into coffee or tea or as part of a recipe. Milk was like the animals though, a valuable resource and while Demeter had gardens and gardens of vegetables, none of the animals were more than a year old. She'd been planning this since Desmond had first gone to Morpheus. They'd always have ended up here, and she'd been ready for them.

The cows, who had been sleeping when Desmond arrived, gladly licked the apple slices out of his hands and let him pet them. It was relaxing if nothing else. Desmond needed more of that, more relaxing things.

He heard the door a ways off open. "It isn't morning yet, is it?" he asked Demeter.

"No, Desmond," she said.

"Who is it?"

Cain."

"Hmm."

"Altair is also in the area. They just had an argument."

"About?"

"The same old things," Cain said and Desmond turned and looked at him. "That I'm a monster. That I'm a terrible influence," he shrugged, "Meaningless things he wants to believe."

"Why aren't you asleep?" Desmond asked. Unlike Altair Cain slept. And slept like a baby. Peacefully and when you woke him he didn't lash out with violence like the others did. He just opened his eyes and looked at you.

"Why aren't you?" Cain asked.

"Not tired- Hey!" Cain flicked him on the temple with his finger. "What the hell?" he'd learned what words Cain did and didn't consider swear words by now. Cain was just sort of… around a lot so he just stopped saying them when he remembered, and he watched his mouth around Cain.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not tired," and at least Cain didn't flick him again.

Instead Cain grabbed him by the chin and looked him in the eye. Cain's blue eyes seemed to stare into him. He remembered how Cain would just look _right through him_, not seeing him. Not into him or at him but just like he didn't exist, wasn't important enough to see. Now though Cain looked into him and he swallowed. "You need sleep," he said.

"I'm fine," Desmond said, not breaking eye contact.

"That is a lie older than I am," Cain said, "I used to tell my teachers that too," he let Desmond go and he stepped back and ran into the fence. The cows nosed against him, a few licked at his face and clothes, looking for more apples. "My Abel used to tell me that when he didn't think I cared."

Desmond frowned, "I have it under control," Desmond said.

"Do you? Really? I spend more time with you now. I can see you don't. You're starting to fray _stadalla_. Talk to me," and he sounded genuine at the least.

Desmond said nothing at first, then he gave in. "I can't control it," he said. "My mind… its broken," and his voice caught. "Even when Altair repaired it, its still has cracks. I can't plug them all." Cain's mouth was thin and hard. "When I sleep, I dream, and dreamshare and I can't keep it together," he looked at his gloved hands. "But I'm about as fine as I can be given the circumstances."

Cain put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the cows. "You need to sleep sometime kid," he said. "You're the leader here."

"Altair's the leader, I just-

"No," Cain said. "You need to step up. Altair is losing control of himself. He doesn't know what's real anymore, he's lost and won't let anyone help him find his way. Not me, not you, not even Jake. He wants to stumble around in the dark. You need to be the leader. Meaning you need to be at the top of your game."

"Meaning sleep," Desmond said.

"Yes."

"But I just lucid dream now," he ducked out from under Cain's arm and stood in front of him. "And I know where I am, what I'm doing. It wakes me up."

"You're lucid, you can control it," Cain said, "That's why we've been dealing with those angels."

"I can't," Desmond shook his head. "I try. But its different then learning in the White Room. I can't do it."

"Desmond, you're the _stadalla-_

_"_Don't say it like that explains it," Desmond sighed.

"It means you're one of the most powerful psychics the Earth has ever produced," Cain continued, like he hadn't interrupted. "Don't look at me like I have six heads, boy. That's all Eagle Vision has ever been and you accepted it the first time you knew about it in the animus," Desmond didn't ask how he knew, someone had probably told him. "Its your mind projecting what it feels onto the world. Its a long distance empathetic ability a specific sort of humans have nurtured over time. But that's all it is. And you can do more."

Desmond frowned at Cain. "How do you know all this?" he asked.

"I know a lot of things."

"Yeah but you aren't… like me, like Altair, like the others. You don't have Eagle Vision. How do you know anything about it?"

Cain sighed slowly and looked around. He seemed to be thinking. "I don't have Eagle Vision," Cain admitted.

"So how do you know about this whole thing? How do you even do half the things you do?" now Desmond was genuinely curious. "You said only someone angelic enough could find an angel in an Apple. But not even Altair can do that. Why can you?"

"Because," Cain said, looking Desmond dead in the eyes. "Before you came along I was about as angelic as either of our species got after the war," and Desmond's eyes widened when Cain's eyes turned yellow. But not in the way that his or Altair or Ezio's eyes did, where they glowed in the dark as they went into Eagle Vision. This was a dimming, a powering down. Cain's eyes went from a nearly glowing icy blue, to a muted yellow color.

Desmond's mouth moved a second and then he said, "You're a proeathan."

* * *

><p>Cain's eyes aren't blue<p> 


	18. Shrike in the Nest

The accusation hung in the air between them like a fragile piece of spider silk. Desmond could only stare. Cain seemed so much… softer with his dull yellow eyes. He didn't seem so dangerous or otherworldly now and if Desmond hadn't been about to wrap his tongue around the word proeathan he would have just thought Cain a man with strange eyes. He was human looking _enough_, which was odd. He didn't look any one ethnicity that had ever been. His eyes weren't hooded, but they _were_ a bit slanted, and he had a proud jaw and strong cheekbones and jaw. But his mouth was small like it belonged to someone else though his lips were normal. He didn't have any facial hair but Desmond could see the shadow of where it'd come in, and it matched his black hair which Desmond realized now… was curly? A little bit at any rate. It never occurred to Desmond than then that Cain was _too_ tall. He was about as tall as Desmond. Too tall for how old he claimed to be, only within the last hundred years or so did people above six feet really start to be a thing and Cain was _at least_ as tall as Desmond. Maybe a bit shorter.

"Close enough," Cain said and blinked a few times as though to shake the blue back up into his eyes. Back to their cold blue color he seemed dangerous again, sharper somehow.

"What's that mean?"

Cain said nothing a moment and then he said, "I've never told anyone this."

"Really?"

"Knowledge can be a burden," Cain said.

"What are you?" Desmond asked, wary, but more curious.

"My father was proeathan," Cain said. "A Drell. The last of the Drell. My mother…" he trailed off, "she had Eagle Vision. My father tolerated her."

"Sounds like a match made in heaven."

Cain looked at Desmond meanly, "He loved her more than yours did," and nothing could stop Desmond as his fist cocked back and he nailed Cain in the jaw. He'd moved faster than he'd expected to and was left winded. The force of the blow sent Cain to the ground.

"Don't you ever talk about my parents like that again. Got it ?" Desmond spat.

Cain looked an equal measure of impressed and surprised Desmond had punched him. "Good one," he said and pushed himself to his feet. "Next time," he grabbed Desmond's hand without his consent and though he struggled Cain didn't seem to notice. "Hit here, and use this," he tapped the black weight around Desmond's wrist then put Desmond's loosely balled fist up to his jaw, at the hinge where the jaw met the skull. "Puts pressure on the mandible, easier to crack the jaw here or even rip it clean off if you have enough force behind it."

Desmond snatched his hand back and Cain let him, looking at him bewildered. "Is your opinion of me changed now?" Cain asked.

"You're _literally_ one of them," Desmond said.

Cain rolled his eyes, "Don't be so dramatic. My people have been dead for thousands of years. I'm no more proeathan than you are. Actually, I'm about as proeathan as you are."

"I'm human," Desmond said stubbornly.

"So am I," Cain said.

"You're proeathan-

"So are you," Cain said. "You can use their abilities. You have the ability of higher brain functions you call the sixth sense, psychic abilities. Ones above humans. You're as human as me, Desmond."

Desmond turned away from him, his mind buzzing. Cain let him have his silence. "I'm the only one you've ever told?"

"That matter, yes. I've told others, but they're all dead now. So their knowledge is useless."

"So not Altair?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because Altair does not like change," Cain said. "You know this. He likes things when they stay the same all the time, or when things are predictable. Telling him would have just alienated him from me when he needed me-" Desmond barked a short laugh. "What?"

"I can't imagine Altair needing someone like you."

"Really?" Cain asked, cocking his head. "Because he needed me the same way you need me," and that was news to him. He was about to rebuke that, that he didn't need Cain. But the words died before they left his throat. He did need Cain. Without him he'd have never met the angels. Hell maybe without Cain he'd have never met his dad again, and this entire base would be empty. "I become what the world needs," he said.

"Yeah, and what's that? What's the world need?"

"Right now? He needs someone who will listen," and Desmond swallowed thickly, not prepared for that. "Since there aren't a lot of people who'll do that right now."

Desmond looked away again. "Nothing else?" Desmond asked.

"You know what you need to do," Cain said, "you don't need a guide."

"But I don't know what I'm doing," Desmond admitted.

"You're doing fine. Your choices have been the right ones."

"How do you know that?"

"Because right choices are hard," Cain said, "if it was easy then they wouldn't be the right way. Altair… never learned that," he sighed and seemed upset by it. "He's always taken the easy way. The others take the easy way. They're complacent, they're meek and lack real will to change anything. They think they're doing the world good but."

"But?"

"Desmond," Demeter suddenly interrupted, "I thought I'd let you know that Altair has entered the animal garden."

"Oh- thank you Demeter."

"You're welcome," she said.

"The others take the easy way," Cain said again, "they don't learn anything from it," he shrugged a bit. Desmond was about to ask something when he spotted Altair over Cain's shoulder. Cain turned around, "Ah, hello Abel," and he could hear Cain's smile.

"Cain. What are you doing with him?" Altair growled.

"Oh nothing more destructive than what you've already done to him," Cain said, rocking a bit on the balls of his feet.

"I told you to stay away from him," Altair said.

"And when have I _ever_ listened to anything you told me to do? Except, you know, that time in eighteen eighty-eight where you were _so_ adamant I kill those whores-

"Shut up," Altair snapped.

"Truth hurts," Cain said smugly. He looked back at Desmond, "An easy path traveled," he said.

"What? What does that mean?" Altair asked.

"Maybe if you weren't so stubborn and stupid," Cain poked Altair in the forehead, "you'd know." Altair threw a punch, Cain dodged grabbed Altair's arm and had him disabled in three seconds. Desmond winced when he heard the crack of Altair's bone breaking. "Predictable," Cain said.

"Fuck off Cain," Altair hissed. "Let go."

"You'd think you'd learn after so long," Cain said mildly. "I was having a very nice conversation with your boy before you showed up," and Altair looked at Desmond worriedly. "Don't fret Abel, I wouldn't hurt him. I like him."

"That's what I'm worried about," Altair said through clenched teeth.

"What? Afraid I'll replace you?" Cain said meanly. Altair's face grew dark. "Don't think so highly of yourself, _boy_. Now, do you want to heal the long way, or the fast way?" Altair looked at Cain, then at Desmond. "He can't make your choice Abel. You have to make your own. Even though you keep running from the consequences. At least you didn't teach him that, or I really would kill you," Cain hissed.

"Fast way," Altair said through clenched teeth.

"Excellent choice. Next time think it through before you attack me," and he let go of Altair's arm and grabbed him by the neck and cracked it with a deft snap. Cain sighed like he'd enjoyed it. "Pesky boy," he said.

"Why do you do that to him?" Desmond asked, "Hurt him I mean?"

"He's hurt me many times over," Cain said. "I gave him the world, and he shit in my mouth," Desmond blanched. "I did everything for him and he still destroyed us," Cain was looking a thousand miles away and looked sad. "I am unimaginably old, Desmond," he said. "I've loved and lost so many times it's lost meaning."

"But Altair was forever," Desmond supplied.

"I wasn't alone anymore. And then he left me. So why do I hurt him? Because he deserves to be hurt for what his selfishness has done."

"Why do you enjoy it?" Desmond asked.

"Cathartic," Cain said. "He's been a thorn in my foot for a while. And he did lock me in an unbreakable prison for a hundred and twenty odd years. I think I'm perfectly in my rights to enjoy his suffering while he knowingly let me suffer in there. Losing my mind in a timeless, empty, black, void where my only company were my thoughts and after a while I forgot what my own voice sounded like. The torment of laying in my own filth waiting to go Under, knowing I'd Wake and do it all over again. Knowing Altair _willfully_ put me in there," his face was twisted and monstrous now. Desmond took half a step back. "Now I get to make him suffer an _ounce_ of what he put me through. I better be able to enjoy it." Desmond swallowed. "Don't worry though, I have no intention of hurting you, or any of the others. The only person I care to hurt is Altair."

"You're very weird," Desmond said.

"So are you but lets not start a pissing contest," Cain said. He looked down at Altair. "I'll take care of this," and he picked up the immortal's body.

"Where are you doing to take him?" Desmond asked.

"Hmm, probably someplace comfortable. He sleeps barely more than you. He could use the rest," Cain turned his sharp eyes on Desmond, "As could you."

"I told you-

"I know. And I'm _telling you_. Sleep. Find someplace you feel safe. You can control your dreams Desmond. There's no need to be afraid of them."

"But what if the Adjatevs see something in my mind?"

"Don't think so little of those who protect you," Cain said. "Venus," he called up.

"Yes?" her voice sounded out of nothing.

"You're watching over our _stadalla_, right?"

"Always," she said.

Cain looked back at Desmond, "Get some sleep, kid," he said. "You're going to need it."

"I'll try," Desmond said.

"Good enough I guess," Cain said. "I'll go put this one to rest," and he patted Altair's back, the other man slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, and walked off.

Desmond didn't walk with him. He didn't even know _where_ he felt safe. Except he did. He was too scared to go though. He went and fed the cows a few more apples before manning up and leaving the animal garden. His feet carried him to a bedroom. He took a deep breath, got a grip, and knocked. He knew they were sleeping. He knocked again. Once more and the door slid open.

A very tired Lucy answered the door, her hair misshapen and wearing a t-shirt and underwear and that was it and Desmond didn't look. "Desmond?" she squinted at them and then realized who it was. "Desmond!" and the door closed before he could say anything. He waited a second, about to leave, when the door opened again and Lucy was now wearing, soft, sleeping shorts. "Sorry," she said, face a bit flushed. "Uh… what is it?" she asked.

Desmond steeled himself and then he said, "I can't sleep."

"Desmond that isn't really my department-

"I haven't slept in a week since the false alarm at the mine," he said.

That made her concerned, "Is everything all right?"

Desmond shook his head. "Its complicated," he said.

"Alright? What are you doing here?"

"Can I sleep with you— I mean, can I sleep in your room?" he asked. "Like even on the floor or something."

"Desmond—

This was a stupid idea, "Right," he turned away from her. Of course she'd say no. It was a weird request.

"Desmond," she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt. "You can sleep in here," she said.

"Really?"

She nodded, "Just tell me why."

"I lucid dream all the time now and I'm afraid the Adjatevs will do what they did before, again," he said. "I… talked about it with Cain. He said I should try and find someplace I feel safe and sleep there." And he hated the look she gave him. It was almost _pity_. But more she was sad for him, that he'd resorted to this. That he couldn't even find peace in his sleep. He wanted to leave right then. "You're about as close as I can get to 'safe'."

"Not the others?"

"Cain just killed Altair. I trust Hawk and Ezio but… I dunno when Cain said go somewhere safe the first place I thought of was you. I'm sorry. I can leave if you want," he motioned down the hall.

She looked up at him, "No, you can stay," she said.

"Thank you," and she let him in.

"You can sleep on the chair," she pointed and it looked a lot more comfortable than the floor. "Now, I'm going back to sleep."

"Sure. I'm sorry I woke you," Desmond said as Lucy went back to the big bed and crawled into it. She tossed him a pillow and he found a blanket.

"Its alright," she sighed out sleepily. "I've had men wake me for much less." And Desmond din't comment, though of course she meant the actual Lucy Stillman, who'd had boyfriends and a life and had lived in a time that hadn't seen the enslavement and death of most of the human race. "Night," and she yawned.

"Night," Desmond said, the lights dimmed automatically and Desmond closed his eyes. It took a while, but sleep did eventually come.

* * *

><p>become my patron and help me eat by going to patreon dot com slash xazz (I will forever hate ff for not letting us put in links. Like not even hyperlinks, but any sort of code at all DX)<p> 


	19. Shadow of the Teratorn

When Desmond woke he felt uneasy. His sleep had been… better the last few days, but he still woke in the middle of the night. Sometimes covered in sweat and he'd push the blanket off slowly instead of thrashing it off. He'd stay and watch the dark ceiling instead of pacing, or even leaving the room. He didn't want to wake Lucy. Just because his sleep was a nightmare didn't mean he had to wake her peaceful dreams.

Some nights he went back to sleep, others he stayed up all night until Pluto's voice alerted Lucy that it was time to wake up. Usually he just got up and left without notice, rarely did he wake and feel such foreboding. Not since the dream about the mine two weeks ago.

As soon as Lucy woke he was out of the chair and out the door with barely a good morning. He found the command center empty, but it did nothing to ease his unease. He went to the cafeteria and found a few people eating, including Jake, Altair, and Cain. He walked right past Altair and Jake and sat across from Cain.

"Good morning," Cain said.

"Something's happening," Desmond said.

Cain looked up at him as he cut his eggs. "Everything is fine," he said.

"_No_," he hissed. "I felt something. Something's happening."

Cain put his utensils at a resting position and looked at Desmond calmly, "I did not feel it," he said. "What is it?"

"I don't know," Desmond said.

"The Adjatevs?"

"No," he shook his head. "Its different. Closer," he was just confused. He could control his sleeping mind better now. Recently he stopped seeing the star field, and he could pretend he wasn't lucid dreaming, that he was just sleeping.

"Well I can't help if I don't know what it is," Cain said, still calm, and went back to his breakfast. "And try and make it quick Altair is about to get up and come over here and I really don't have it in me to deal with him today," he continued.

Desmond looked over his shoulder at Altair and Jake. Altair was looking at the both of them and Jake was trying to get his attention. He looked back at Cain. "I think I had another vision," he said.

"Oh?"

"Untampered this time."

"What do you remember?"

"… Nothing. I just feel… like something is going to happen."

Cain frowned a bit, "Gods and everything," he muttered, looking behind Desmond. "You'd think he'd let me eat my breakfast in peace," he said louder as Altair came over.

"What's going on here?" Altair asked, hands on the table, leering at Cain.

"Just a friendly conversation," Cain said.

Altair looked at Desmond to confirm, "Its nothing Altair," he said.

Altair squinted at him, then at Cain, then back at Desmond. "You've been a lot more secretive lately," he said. "And a lot more disrespectful."

Desmond scowled at him, "I have always been this disrespectful," he said.

"What sort of things have you been filling his head with?" Altair asked Cain, giving him a hard, angry, look.

Cain raised his hands in a dismissing way, "Nothing really. Just some well deserved truth."

"Funny, because all you ever speak are lies," Altair growled and Desmond jumped nearly out of his seat when Cain rammed his knife into the stop of Altair's hand, hitting the table. Altair cried out in pain.

"Stop," Cain said, twisting the knife very slowly.

"What the hell?" Altair demanded.

"Stop," Cain said again. "Stop making me hurt you," and Desmond looked between the two, stunned. "As much as you wish, Desmond is _not_ your son. He is your self appointed charge, and from the story I've heard you've failed him his entire life. Now I am giving him some well meaning advice on how to handle the end of the world, since you spectacularly landed it in his lap," Cain twisted the knife and Desmond winced as he heard the metacarpal bones grind. Altair was bent over his hand, gasping and whining in pain.

"He can learn nothing else from you now," Cain said, "your teaching has come as far as they ever will with your horrible short sightedness. I will not stand by any longer as you try and get us all _killed_, Altair," Cain's voice never went up in volume, and there was only mild inflection. "Just because you want to die doesn't mean you have to take the rest of us with you. Now-" Cain yanked the knife out of the table and Altair's hand, "when I'm talking to Desmond, its important. I am helping him in a way you can't even begin to because you lack the ability, the genetics, and the knowledge." Altair had his hand clutched to his chest now and it was bleeding heavily. "Jake," he called, louder now.

"Uh… yeah?" Jake called from where he was sitting, having watched the entire thing.

"Come take him to Demeter's med center to get that hand fixed," Cain wiped his knife off on a napkin. He looked at Altair again, "I enjoy when I get to hurt you," he told Altair. "I don't want to but you make it so _easy_. Stop making me want to hurt you, boy," Cain's face and eyes and voice were hard as Jake came over to the table.

"What the… Cain," Jake sent him a look.

"Just kiss it better," Cain said, sort of meanly. Then he waved them away.

"Desmond," Altair said.

Desmond looked at Altair, "He's right," he said and watched Altair's eyes go wide. "Just… Just go, Altair," and he looked away. Jake practically dragged Altair away. "I hate that," Desmond said.

"As do I," Cain said. "He just insists on breaking everything he touches," and he went back to his breakfast. "Now, about your premonition. Do you still feel it?" Desmond nodded, "Is it coming from outside of Demeter, or inside?"

"How should I know- damnit Cain! Cain!" Cain threw two thick slices of hot potatoes at him, they both hit him in the face.

"Am I mockingbird?" Cain asked.

"What's that even mean?" Desmond huffed.

"How many times do I have to say it to get it through that thick head of yours? Mary as my witness, it's almost like you are Abel's son from how thick your skull is."

"Hey," Desmond said, pouting a bit.

"You're _psychic_, Desmond," Cain said. "Potentially a very powerful one, for now you're still getting used to the simple things. One of those things is getting used to the idea that you _are_ psychic. When I ask you, is it coming from inside Demeter or outside, I mean shut up and figure it out."

"But-

"But?" Cain asked pushing egg into his mouth.

"How?"

"How do you do anything else Desmond?" he asked.

Desmond opened and closed his mouth a few times, then he he just sat there. Cain ate his breakfast slowly as people started to trickle into the cafeteria. Desmond just sat there, trying to make sense of his foreboding. After a moment he went into Eagle Vision, to see if that gave him any insight. No. The sixth sense came next and he looked at Cain in hyper real colors that were so saturated and vibrant they were sort of painful to look at in the full light.

"Okay," Desmond said, "Now what?"

"Now, what?" Cain asked.

"What's the next step?"

Cain grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve even though Desmond tried to yank it down. He lost the sixth sense and his own muted colored vision came back. Cain pressed his thumb into the underside of his arm. "Glow," he ordered.

"What?"

"Glow," Cain said again. After a moment, focusing, Desmond did, the light racing down his arm. "Good. Now, make _this one_ glow," he pressed his thumb firmly into the underside of his arm.

"It's already glowing," Desmond said.

"_Just_ this one," Cain said.

"What but-

"No buts. Do it," Cain said and started to press harder on Desmond's arm. It started to hurt. "I'm strong enough to break your skin if you don't," Cain said.

"Holy shit man," Desmond said and Cain smacked the inside of his elbow so hard it stung.

"Do it," Cain said again. "Pain and fear are powerful motivators. If I don't get through the skin the pressure will end up fracturing or breaking your arm. Or at the very least leave a bruise," and Cain was pushing harder now.

Desmond stared at the glyph Cain wanted and he stared so hard he might as well set his skin on fire. He did what he did when he turned it on and off. Around him he heard some people sound concerned as the lights flickered as the glow washed up and down Desmond's arm, on and off and on and off, trying to get _that one_. Cain kept pressing. He really didn't want a broken arm here.

Then, like a fucking miracle his arm went dark, the lights stopped flickering, and the one glyph glowed. Cain eased up on the pressure. "I don't know what or how the glow is caused," Cain said, "But I know its a mechanism controlled by your brain. Now what did we learn?"

"You have one hell of a grip," Desmond said and Cain smiled in amusement. "And I can do what needs doing?"

"What I ask of you isn't outside the realm of you doing," Cain said. "But like this," he tapped the glyph, "discerning if your ill feeling is inside or outside Demeter takes precision. Now. Is it inside, or outside of the ark?" and he removed his hand from Desmond.

Desmond pulled his arm back and rubbed the inside of his arm, he'd have a bruise there. Though Desmond realized Cain wouldn't have _really_ broken his arm. At least… he hoped so. Desmond made all the glowing stop and then tried to focus the way he had before. Cain ate his breakfast but kept an eye on him as he did this. He tried Eagle Vision and the sixth sense again but realized neither of those would really help him. Both the ways he used them were sight based. What he wanted wasn't sight based, right?

He pondered that for a minute before coming to the conclusion that it _could_ be sight based. He went into the sixth sense but it wasn't doing it for him. He wasn't very good at it yet like he was Eagle Vision. But Eagle Vision wasn't as powerful. At least that's what it felt like. It was limiting. "Cain," Desmond said after a solid five minutes.

"Yes?"

"Probably stupid question but, people who use Eagle Vision are— technically psychics right?"

"Technically," Cain agreed, "the way its been described to me is a sharpened projected empathy sight. Your mind can understand, on an empathetic level based on what you see, someone's attitude towards you. They show up as colors. But its been so refined and honed over the centuries by those who have it and train others with it that most people don't know any other way than that."

"Could it be trained like the sixth sense to do more?"

Cain didn't answer right away, "I don't know," he admitted. "Everyone I've met who's had it never uses it for anything but the obvious choice is."

Desmond frowned a bit, "Okay," he was quiet again, thinking. What he was feeling he'd knock up to empathy, this touchy feely bullshit his brain was freaking out about. He looked around in Eagle Vision as Cain got up from the table and went to get seconds. The world was gray and warping at the edges, only the center at all focused. He wanted more focus though but when he sharpened his eyes he either lost the Eagle Vision or went over into the sixth sense.

Cain sat back down while he was trying to puzzle through getting a clearer image through this lens. He two plates down, one in front of him, and one in front of Desmond. "And eat," Cain said, "it can be hard to think when you're hungry."

Desmond looked down at the plate. High protein, a big omelet with bacon and what looked like spinach, but only a single slice of bread and a few potatoes. Cain's second helping was more diverse and decidedly ethnic. "I don't get fun food?" he asked.

"You're American," Cain said blandly, "You and the English aren't so keen on exotics."

Desmond gave him a look, "I used to live in New York City."

"You say that like it means something to me. I doubt its really changed that much in a hundred years. White people everywhere feeling superior to those who aren't and eating the same boring food they have for centuries."

"Prick," he muttered but ate his breakfast. At least the food wasn't bad. As he ate he mulled over how to do the thing Cain wanted him to do. Funnily enough he got an idea from his omelet. It was one thing, but it had two distinct ingredients in it. Bacon, and spinach, and he didn't really like spinach but when he just ate it without picking the dark leafy vegetable out it just tasted awesome. But it was the bacon _and_ the spinach that made it awesome.

He stopped eating and went into the Eagle Vision. He looked dead at Cain who glowed a soft white color in his sight and was one of the only things in focus. Desmond slowly tightened his eyes to bring the sixth sense up. A switch flipped and Cain appeared in ultra vibrant colors. Not what he wanted. He went back to Eagle Vision and did it again. Again it was a switch flip. Cain just watched him, saying nothing, letting him work through it on his own. Which he appreciated. He wanted to be able to do things on his own.

He wanted to use them both, at the same time. That couldn't be impossible. He _was_ fucking impossible, no way he couldn't do this. He thought about how he'd made that glyph glow, just the one. He started rapidly changing between Eagle Vision, normal sight, and the sixth sense, and quickly gave himself a headache. He groaned and put his hand on his head. Across the table Cain chuckled.

"That was a dumb idea," Desmond said.

"I could have told you that," Cain said smartly. "Figure out a way yet?"

"I think I'm in the right direction. Can you do it? Like determine where a feeling of foreboding is?" Cain nodded. "How?"

"I'm half proeathan Desmond, what I can do isn't all like what you can do. My ability with the sixth sense is beyond you."

"But _how_."

Cain said nothing a moment, Desmond didn't try and interrupt him. "Its just something I feel," Cain said. "I can't explain it to you because you can't do the prerequisite to it."

"Which is?"

"A higher level of empathy you don't have."

"Can I get it?"

"I don't know. I don't know what your limits are. Right now? No, you can't. You're too untrained in expanding your mind."

"How do I do that?"

"Training," Cain said, "like anything else you learn to do you need to practice it until it becomes easy."

Desmond sat back and contemplated all that. He looked at Cain through the filter of the sixth sense. His brain was just doing this, opening different connections to see things different, his eyes were seeing the same thing. It was just his mind was changing what it took in from his eyes and filtered it differently.

What if he took that away though?

He closed his eyes but the sixth sense was like a flashlight and even with his eyes closed he could see the outline of things through his eyelids. "Do you sleep in the sixth sense?" Desmond asked.

"No," Cain said, "The mind is most active at night for someone as old as me. I dream constantly. Sleeping as I am would be a stimulation overload."

"You've tried it," Desmond opened his eyes.

"Of course I did. I was young once and wanted to test the limits of my immortality."

"Huh," and then Desmond got up.

"Where are you going?" Cain asked.

"I don't want to blow the lights," and Desmond walked away from the table. He heard Cain get up and follow him. He left the cafeteria and went down the hall to where his bedroom was. He went in and sat on the floor. "Demeter, kill the lights," he said.

"Of course," and the lights all went off. Desmond was still looking through the sixth sense and could see perfectly in the dark, and in color at that. Cain sat with him, his eyes glowing a soft blue. Desmond closed his eyes again but it was weird, he could still sort of see, still see Cain, and the furniture as globs of color against his eyelids.

"When I raised Atlantis," Desmond said, "I went to a structure that was very old. It didn't look proeathan. Do you know what it was?"

"No," Cain said.

"Best guess," Desmond still had his eyes closed.

"What was there?"

"What I saw was like… an energy ball? It had the same lines on it I do. I touched it and it sent out a huge burst of energy and Atlantis rose."

"But it wasn't proeathan?"

"No."

"Then I doubt it raised Atlantis. Atlantis was the byproduct of raising the Unnamed."

Desmond was quiet. The Unnamed and Atlantis resonated on perfectly opposite psyonic wave lengths. They canceled each other out but still allowed for psychics to exist inside their sphere of influence without hurting them.

Desmond let the glyphs wash over in brilliant teal light. He opened his eyes and was met by absolute darkness even with the light and the sixth sense. "Desmond," Demeter said worried. "Please keep control."

"I am," Desmond said and kept his eyes open. "I have it under control Demeter, it'll be okay." He looked around in the darkness and was reminded of when he'd fallen in Mercury's tower, or been in that pod for five years. But this was a darkness in the mind that he knew well. Like when Altair had died in Dubai, or when he'd gone into a coma after stabbing Lucy in Rome, or when Abstergo had abducted him and knocked him out for the flight across the Atlantic. They were all great darknesses and he'd been so afraid and scared all those times, on some level. But since the pod he'd accepted the darkness.

"Desmond," Cain's voice sounded far away, "remember to breathe."

Desmond had been holding his breath without realizing it and when he breathed in it was like splashing his face with cold water. "Cool," he said, grinning and looking around.

"What are you seeing?"

"The ark," he said, "on an empathetic level, I think. Maybe not, hard to tell."

"What's it look like?"

"You won't get this reference, but kinda like the Matrix."

"You're right, I have no idea what that means."

"Like threads… I guess. Connecting people to each other, some are colored, and each person and thing is a light. The rest is void. Materials are ignored, I only see organics, through walls or floors or ceilings."

Desmond looked around and then down at himself. Several threads he'd mentioned were connected to his chest. Most were white, one or two were gold and then one was a brilliant red and pulsed in a gentle red light. There was also one that was the darkest black he'd ever seen. So black it was visible even against the darkness of this sight. It took him a minute to figure out how, but he extended himself along the black thread. This was the sense of foreboding he'd felt all morning. It grew stronger as he followed it towards the destination but he was surprised he didn't have to go very far. In fact, it was coming towards him.

He drew back into himself and then let the glowing of the glyphs go. Demeter turned up the lights a little bit. "My premonition was coming from inside the ark," Desmond said.

"Ah," Cain said. "Then that is a problem isn't it."

"Demeter, lights," and the lights in the room went up to full brightness.

"We'll see what it is soon though," Desmond said.

"Oh?" Cain asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, cause its coming this way right now," and there was an abrupt knock on the door.

* * *

><p>become my patron and help me eat by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	20. The Liar Bird

Desmond had Demeter open the door. "Oh I'm shaking in my boots," Cain said and Desmond sent him a look. Shaun was at the door. He still had too much white in his hair and barely resembled the man Desmond had known five years ago now.

"Hey," Desmond said.

"Hello," Shaun said.

"What do you want?"

"Well," Shaun said slowly, "I assume you don't mean the warming of the planet and for our species to not be all murdered-

"Shaun," Desmond sighed.

"What's he doing here? I thought everyone was agreed he wasn't invited to our super secret club," Shaun pointed at Cain.

"I actually invented the super secret club thanks," Cain said idly.

"We're doing special snowflake stuff, what do you want?" Desmond said every inch as sarcastic as Cain and Shaun.

"We need you at the comm," Shaun said.

"For what?" Shaun didn't answer right away. "Shaun?"

"They told me not to tell you."

"Who did?"

"Ezio and Hawk," Shaun sighed. "They just told me to come get you."

"Because they know if you tell me I won't go," Desmond said.

"Prooobably," Shaun agreed nodding. "Look just c'mon. You can be mad or annoyed or whatever at them after. Its important."

"Like how important?" Desmond asked, he wasn't moving an inch without a damn good reason. The sense of foreboding was overwhelming now too while Shaun was so close. If he went with Shaun something bad would happen.

"We think we found a way to disrupt the Adjatevs," Shaun said.

"I'm listening," Desmond said.

"We aren't sure though. We need you to come do something."

"Why?"

"Remember the whole joke you made about special snowflakes?"

Desmond sighed and then looked down at Cain, who shrugged. "Fine," he told Shaun, "I'll come with you."

Cain stood up, "You're not invited," Shaun told him.

"Excuse me?" Cain asked.

Shaun swallowed, "You can't come."

"Says who?"

"Its okay," Desmond said, "it'll be fine," he told Cain.

"Hmm."

"Seriously. I can still take Shaun, he isn't that scrappy," he gave Shaun a smug grin and Shaun rolled his eyes.

"Fine," Cain said but followed them out of the room, Demeter closed and locked the door behind them. "Don't forget who's in charge," he reminded Desmond.

"Yeah I got it. Lead on Shaun," he told Shaun and followed him away from his room and Cain.

"Why you hanging out with that guy?" Shaun asked him once they were well out of ear shot.

"Cain?"

"Yeah."

"He's not so bad," Desmond said.

Shaun looked at him, "Desmond, I've seen him kill Altair at least once a week for nearly six months. He's crazy."

"Don't knock it till you try it," and Shaun looked over his shoulder to scowl at Desmond.

"I'm bering serious," Shaun said.

"So am I," Desmond said. "I'm a bit cracked myself, and so are the others."

"But they aren't murdering psychopaths," Shaun said.

"Cain isn't a psychopath," Desmond said defensively. "He's just—

"Just?" Shaun prompted him.

"He's lonely," Desmond said.

"Like that makes it any better," Shaun huffed and they boarded a lift.

"I'm surprised you aren't in love with him honestly," Desmond said.

"Why should I be?" Shaun adjusted his glasses irritably.

Desmond hesitated a second, "You know what Cain is?"

"Immortal? Yes yes we all know," Shaun made a shooing motion at him.

"Cain's over a thousand years old," Desmond said and he saw Shaun have to absorb that. "Imagine all the stuff he's seen. How are you not all over him and sucking his dick to hear his first hand accounts?"

"One," Shaun said as the lift stopped, "I have never sucked dick for information. Two, he's scary, mate," Shaun said.

"He's pretty chill once you get to know him a bit," Desmond said. They'd entered the 'Assassin' part of Demeter, where Desmond didn't go. His father oversaw this area so he had no reason to visit. Here plans were made and a large chunk of the humans had started to migrate towards since the Ilythians had shown up, afraid and seeking refuge with people who had a chance against them. "What are we doing here?" the dark premonition he'd felt kept weighing heavier in his stomach. He was about to face whatever his vision had been, Shaun had merely been the messenger.

"You'll see," and Shaun led him to one of the doors and opened it. At first he thought it was a command center. Then he looked a bit closer and realized it wasn't a command center; it was a training room.

Other than the holodeck table in the middle of the room the main feature in the room was a padded, red, reclining, chair. Several glass fans stuck out of the head of the chair and there was a high tech cuff on one side. Desmond recognized it on sight and all the hair on his body stood up on end and he got goosebumps: the Animus.

"If this is your idea of a joke I am not laughing," Desmond told the people in the room which numbered his father, Rebecca, Ezio, Hawk, and Clay. Basically everyone important.

"This isn't a joke," Ezio said.

"I'm going to humor you all here; what do you want?"

"We have a solution," Andrew said.

"A what? Don't we normally have problems?"

"We're problem solvers," Ezio said, trying to get back in control. "And we found a solution."

"Then why don't any of you seem particularly pleased with yourself," and Desmond knew what Ezio was going to say, but he was playing along with them.

"It involves the Animus," Desmond winced a bit, "You need to get in it."

Desmond's smile was splintered at best, "Yeah right. Not happening," he folded his arms across his chest.

"Desmond-

"It isn't happening," he said seriously.

"Its important," Hawk said.

"Yeah? How important?" he challenged.

Clay took over here, his blue eyes fixed right on Desmond. "Tens of thousands of years ago there was a human-proeathan war. It decimated the world and nearly wiped humans off the planet. Then there was the Toba catastrophe and while it crippled the proeathans it didn't stop them. After the Toba incident however the humans gained an edge and they attacked the capital of the largest proeathan nation-state; Atlantis. It fell and the tide turned in favor of the humans. Something about the Toba incident changed the tide of war. We need to find out how what happened and why they suddenly got an edge over the proeathans and how. Its probably the only way we'll even get _close_ to Atlantis."

"That doesn't explain why you need me," he said. "I'm not the only one alive who had ancestors from back then," and no one denied that.

"We can't," Andrew said.

"And why not?" he glared at his father.

"It isn't like we haven't tried," Rebecca piped up quickly before Desmond burned a hole through Andrew's head. "We have. Clay was the first to volunteer. Unfortunately, it didn't work, he has ancestors from that far back but not the ones we need. We tried others but as it is going that far back is ridiculously dangerous and only someone with a block to prevent the Bleed could safely access those memories. The further back you go in your DNA the more latency there is, and the more glitchy and volatile the Animus gets. The Bleed cuts deeper that far back. Sticking some normal person into the Animus to get eighty thousand years back just doesn't work."

"Did you try?" Desmond asked.

"Of course we did," Andrew growled. "He lasted about six seconds before he kicked himself out. Repeated incidents led to the same results. Normal people can't access those memories."

"And what about Clay?" Desmond asked Clay.

"I, sadly, am not compatible. I do not possess the genes required for the person we want. We attempted to use Jake as well, but he doesn't have them either," Clay said with a frown.

"And you think _I_ do?"

"We know you do," Rebecca said slowly. She hesitated and then continued, "Andrew volunteered, just to see if it'd work. He could sync into the person we're looking for. He desynced almost as soon as we figured that out though."

Desmond blew a harsh stream of air from his mouth, "So if he can then I can. So lemmie ask; who are we trying to look at?"

"Adam," Rebecca said.

Desmond blinked, "Adam? Like-

"Adam and Eve," Clay said.

Desmond didn't say anything for a second then he said, "So you all know Adam basically died like well before the end of the war right?"

The looks on their faces was _priceless_. "What?" Clay asked.

"Yeah. By the time Toba happened; Adam was dead. You want to find anything from Toba you'd prooobably want to talk to Eve."

"How do you know that?" Hawk asked.

"I have proeathan friends remember?" Desmond asked giving them all looks, "I know shit."

"Regardless. We need you to get in the Animus," Ezio said.

"Why do you think I'll do that after what happened the _last_ time I got into that thing. Do I need to remind you it almost _killed me_?" Desmond demanded.

"You have a block," Hawk said, "You, Jake, and Clay all have one. It keeps the Bleed at a minimum or shuts it of all together like in your case. It should be enough to keep whatever Bleed going back that far will bring to manageable levels."

"_Should_?"

"If required Altair can manipulate the block to be stronger. Nothing's going to happen to you Desmond."

"No shit, cause I'm not getting in that thing," he said.

"Desmond, be reasonable-

"No," Desmond said, looking at his father, who'd tried that bullshit. "No offense Rebecca but that thing nearly killed me."

Rebecca frowned, "Its actually the only reason you're still alive," she said. "When… when you fell into that coma it was the only thing that stopped you from going brain dead."

"Which wouldn't have happened in the first place if I hadn't been in the Animus," he reminded them. "I nearly died in that fucking chair. Nope, not happening again. Find someone else."

"There is no one else," Clay said. "I don't have the right genetics, neither does Jake. Andrew could briefly sync with Adam, meaning he could sync with Eve too, and that means you can sync with her too. No one else can handle it," he frowned.

"No one else?" Desmond asked.

"We've tried, Desmond," Rebecca insisted. "I've tried _everything_ to try and stabilize the Animus further. The cut's too deep. Only someone who's gone through what you three have could handle it. We've had at least a hundred people sit in this chair, try to sync with Adam. If they can its for a second, half a second. The longest we got was ten seconds and that was from Andrew. There is no one else."

Desmond said nothing at first. No one else. Just him. He was the only one. His eyes widened as he remembered something. "No," Desmond said, a plan forming quickly. It was a stupid plan. An _incredibly_ stupid plan, but shit he was in charge here. "There is someone else," he said.

"Who?" Ezio asked.

"I have a clone," and the most devious little grin came to Desmond's face. "Remember? I'm that asshole with the sob story clone."

"But we have no idea where he is. Even if we did Altair would never risk someone going and getting him," Ezio said.

Desmond looked at Ezio, "Altair's not in charge. I am," and Ezio's face dropped. "And I know how to find him."

"Yeah? How?" Hawk asked.

"Demeter," he called.

"Will you ask Cain and Lucy if they have any information on the location of my clone?"

"Yes, one moment," and they waited. "Lucy says she knows, Cain says he might."

"Awesome," Desmond said. "Ask her to come here please. We need to plan."

"Very well," another pause, "She said she's on her way-

"And she is not happy you interupted her breakfast," Pluto chimed yes.

"Oh well," Desmond sighed. "But she's coming?"

"Yes," Demeter said.

"Excellent," Desmond said grinning.

* * *

><p>become my patron and help me eat by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	21. Serpant-Eagle's Delight

list of fics Cain is in/will be in for those who don't stalk my blog like two little birds I know and wanna read/catch up on what they've missed: Tincture, Legacy, Pro Human, Those Who Came After and Circadian Rhythm. And probably more in the future.

A new Q&A will be coming soon also.

* * *

><p>The silence was stiff and inflexible as they waited for Lucy to arrive. Desmond just sat, waiting. Several minutes passed before the door opened and Lucy entered. She looked around the room at the grim faces. "What's going on?" she asked.<p>

"Oh, the usual, everyone trying to kill me," Desmond said.

She gave him a look, "I doubt this is a time for jokes, Desmond," she said.

He levered himself out of the chair, "Yeah but if not now, when? I mean I'm probably going to die before this shit is over anyway, cause no way the universe is letting a freak like me live past usefulness. So might as well get the jokes in where I can, right?" She didn't like that answer, none of them did. Desmond was the only one who'd come to terms that he would die. Well he didn't _want_ to die, he liked living quite a bit. But he knew that there was no happy ending for him. The only end for him was the welcoming embrace of absolute darkness of death.

"What do you need me for?" she asked, "Demeter said something about your clone."

"Yes. I need him," Desmond said.

"For what?"

"Well, the others _did_ want to put me in the Animus-

"What?" she demanded and then turned to Ezio and Hawk, "Have you two lost your damn minds?" she scolded the both of them. Ezio hunched a bit. "And who's idea was it to go along with what I'm sure was Andrew's dumb idea?" The immortals looked between each other guiltily. "If you're lucky I won't tell Altair so he won't skin you two for your combined idiocy."

"I know right?" Desmond chimed in. "I mean I kinda expected it from Ezio. But Hawk? Anyway. I need my clone for the Animus," he said.

"Why?" she asked. Rebecca butted in then, and explained it like she had to Desmond, adding in the Toba event information. "I mean… that sounds like a pretty good idea," she said.

"But I'm not getting into the Animus," Desmond said.

"Well if you had any ideas you wanted to I'd stop you," Lucy said. "I still can't _believe_ you people wanted him to get into the Animus again," she sighed deeply and ran her hand through her hair a bit. She looked really hot when she pushed it back like that. No Desmond don't think that, he scolded himself and got back on track.

"Do you know where my clone is?" Desmond asked.

"I mean… its been like seven months, Desmond," she frowned. "He could be anywhere."

"But he failed," Hawk piped in, "his purpose. He's a failed test and Altair cut his face up a bit so they couldn't trick us again. So he's useless to them."

"Wouldn't they just kill him?" Ezio asked.

"I doubt it," Lucy said, "proeathans hate throwing things away if they can't help it. Its why they have empty, useless, bases, all over the world. Old strongholds from the First War, left exactly as they were. Though there isn't much left of them now. But if they went through a lot of trouble to make me, and Desmond's clone. They wouldn't just- just throw us away," she swallowed uncomfortably.

"Alright, so then best guess on _where_ he might be?" Desmond asked.

Lucy approached the holotable and brought up a representation of the globe. "Normally," she said, "They'd put useful tools and technologies in Juno or Minerva," she circled their positions in Italy. "But both bases have been converted into a factory and a science facility," she licked her lips. "But that's for manufacturing. Desmond's clone and I…"

"That's where you were created?" Hawk asked, without any feeling. He wasn't doing it to be mean. It was simply a fact.

"Yes," she said. "But we didn't stay there long. We were relocated here," the globe turned, showing Asia and a dot literally appeared smack dab in the middle. "This is Apollo, the center of everything up until probably the rise of Atlantis. Apollo is where most of the non combatant proeathans lived and probably still do live, since I have no doubt the proeathans know we're going for Atlantis and don't want civilians anywhere near there.

"Its also the proeathans terraforming base. This is where they started to cool the planet and where a large seed bank was kept. Nothing like Demeter but these are plants and animals from tens of thousands of years ago to take the place of the plants that grew to adapt a warmer planet after the proeathans left. Its also capable of amazing feats that I honestly have to describe as magic since maybe only Hawk and Rebecca would be able to understand what I'd be talking about."

"Hey," Shaun said, indignant.

"Its more math than you want to deal with, Shaun," Lucy said as way of apology. "But they turned the land around Apollo into a paradise. This map, is wrong," she swiped her finger across the map in two large, shallow, crescents that formed an incomplete circle. "There are mountains here now. They create a rain shadow much like the Himalayans do. Hot air rises from Apollo from the machine's processes of terraforming, keeping the planet cold, builds into clouds and then rains within the newly created basin. When I was there the land had already been converted into a temperate rainforest."

"But how did they make the mountains?" Shaun asked critically. "There aren't any tectonic plates there."

"I told you," Lucy said, "its… like magic," there was awe and wonder in her voice, but also fear, that people could do things like this. "Air traffic above an around Apollo is carefully monitored as you can well imagine," she continued, back to business. "Theres _no way_ we could get in there. Any numia who doesn't identify as friendly gets blown out of the sky."

"You've seen it?" Andrew asked.

"I've seen video," she said. "The attempts of the last five years made by humans was part of my education so that when I was with other humans I could tell you, in detail, how futile this all is."

"And do you think it is?" Andrew asked, eyes narrowed.

She looked at them, and then at Desmond. "I mean, I think its' impossible but-

"_But_?" Andrew pressed.

"Desmond has that look in his eye where he's not going to listen to me anyway so me trying to stop you is futile itself."

Desmond laughed, "Oh, you got that right," he said gleefully. "How friendly do you have to be to get to fly into Apollo?" he asked.

"You have to be on their side," she said.

"Or probably be me," Desmond said.

"Desmond. No," Ezio said.

"Did you just-

"You're not going to Apollo."

"You going to stop me old man?" Desmond challenged. "If we need what Eve knows so badly then we have two options; you put me in a fucking coma forever, or we go get my clone. There is no plan C. And don't bring up Altair," he added when Ezio opened his mouth, "We all know Altair won't be happy about it." He turned back to Lucy, "Who could get us in?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

"Could you?"

"Hardly. I'm on their wanted list. See what went wrong," he tapped her temple.

"Could Od?"

"Possibly. It depends on what the relationship the Ilythians had with the Adjatevs before they went missing."

"Didn't they defect?" Ezio asked.

"I mean," Desmond started, "not 'officially' or anything. They're such a small group that I doubt the Adjatevs wouldn't welcome them back. Especially if they brought something to smooth it over."

"Like what?"

No one was going to like what he said next, "Well, me."

"Absolutely not," Ezio said.

"Now you're the one who's lost it Little Bird," Hawk said at the same time.

"Desmond you can't," Shaun said.

"Stop stop," he held up his hands while everyone talked at once, they quieted. "Look, its the best way," he said.

"Its a good way to get you captured," Ezio said.

"It isn't up for debate," Desmond told him harshly. "I'm going."

"Big Eagle would literally lock you up when he finds out," Hawk said.

"Then we aren't telling him," Desmond said.

"Desmond that's crazy," Ezio said.

"Good thing I'm a little crazy," he gave Ezio a bit of a reckless grin. "I need to get to Apollo because as much as I like Od and the Ilythians, I don't trust them with this. And no one else here could walk into that place and walk back out again."

"And neither would you," Ezio said.

"I could. I will," Desmond said, "I'm more proeathan than any of you. I'm a bit on the short side to be a proeathan, but I'm in the height category. And if needed I'm the only one who can use the sixth sense like they do if they test me. I also know myself better than _any _of you. I'm the guy for this job."

No one looked happy about it, but no one disagreed either. If they needed Desmond's clone they needed someone to go get him, and none of them were fit enough for it. "Fine," Ezio said, "No one breathe _a word_ of this to Altair. He'd shut the entire thing down. We can tell him once you're gone," he told Desmond.

"Just make sure he doesn't follow," Desmond said.

"Before we get too far in our little scheme," Shaun butt in, as he was prone to do. "You might have the physical requirements of being proeathan, but you look nothing like them. And I'm sure they all know _exactly_ what you look like." Desmond frowned, he hadn't thought of that.

"If we may," Venus' voice chimed in from the ceiling.

"Yes, of course Venus," Desmond said.

She and Hera appeared around the holotable they were all standing around. "Hera and I may have a solution to your dilemma of being… human." Venus once more wore the likeness of Altair, and used his voice, which made this all sort of weird.

"Which is?"

Hera reached up and tapped her featureless mask. "The disciples of the stars are called _hadi ko enlrnma, _or faceless starseers. We were a united movement within the proeathan city-states without allegiance to anyone save the high priestess. They are a neutral faction that offer spiritual help to the population.

"The size of the order has shrunken dramatically since we were reawakened, but we don't doubt that people are joining out of fear and wanting some sort of understanding in this chaos.

"The faceless wear masks at all times, some of the most devout even when they sleep. If you could infiltrate their quarters and done their uniform, you would be able to move around Apollo rather freely. We highly doubt that those there have a full count of all the faceless. It went into a great disarray when I was sacrificed into this."

"How do I do that?"

"This is a map of Apollo," Venus said, bringing up a new hologram. "The hanger where numia are required to enter through is here," the large room glowed blue. "We do not know exactly where the hall of the faceless is, but Hera has an approximation."

"It is somewhere in this area," Hera said and an area of what looked like several football fields lit up green. "It is, unfortunately, as close as we can determine where hall of the faceless reside."

"Quick question," Hawk said, "Desmond also can't _speak_ whatever language is the common one in Apollo."

"Faceless often take vows of silence for several years, or even their entire tenure," Hera said. "Find a mask with three black crosses, one in the middle of the forehead, and one under each eye. All within the order of faceless will take vows of silence and will chastise anyone who attempts to speak to you because to be spoken to is to be tempted to break your vows."

"So an excuse to not talk, cool," Desmond said.

"You'll blow your cover in like five minutes," Shaun said sarcastically.

"Shut up, Shaun," Desmond said, scowling at him, but not too hard. "But that sounds like it could work," Desmond continued, "Just getting to the hall of faceless will be a challenge."

"If an Ilythian is there they could help you," Rebecca said helpfully. "Like if its a group you could just blend in with them."

"Before you progress," Hera said, interrupting. "A faceless' eyes are their most prominent feature. A proeathan will maintain eye contact with a faceless at all times to not appear rude. You _must_ be in Eagle Vision at all times while you are at Apollo as proeathans only have yellow eyes, if they see your eyes, you will be found out."

"Wonderful," Desmond sighed. "Okay, sounds simple enough. Now we just need to get the Ilythians to help us," he said. "They awake yet?"

"Od is holding a meeting with his seconds and thirds," Pluto said. "But I have informed him you wish to speak with him. He said once breakfast is over he'd be happy to meet with you on his side of the ark."

"Christ back and forth, back and forth," Desmond muttered under his breath, "Okay," he said louder, "Thank you Pluto."

"Of course."

"Hera, Venus, thank you for your help, unlike these yahoos," he gave the rest of them a look, "Wanting to put me in the Animus," he half muttered and rolled his eyes. "I think we're done here?" he asked them. There were some nods and yesses. "Great," and they dispersed.

* * *

><p>become my patron and help me eat by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p>

So patreon is actually something that if you like me you should do. If you ever say you'd buy a book from me that's great, but I really don't wanna wait to publish a book to maybe not have to work terrible jobs. Saying you'd buy a book I wrote is a promise to support me later; but I need support now too.


	22. Birds with Friends

platonic relationships and love are very important okay. Also is brot3 a thing? Cause I have one.

* * *

><p>When he left the room, walking towards the lift with Lucy he said, "Sorry for disrupting your breakfast."<p>

"Its fine," she said. "It wasn't very peaceful anyway."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I went and tried having it in the main cafeteria. No one would leave me alone."

Desmond frowned, "I'm sorry," Desmond said.

"Its okay. I knew it would happen."

"Why don't you just tell them off?"

"I do," she said as they got on the life. The doors closed, neither of them picked a destination. "But while some listen, most don't. So many want to talk to me, or touch me. At this point I'm glad I cut my hair, otherwise people would probably pull on it."

"That's bullshit," Desmond said.

"Yes. Usually when I want to eat in the main cafeteria Jake comes with me. Everyone knows him, or knows at least when I'm with someone to leave me alone because he doesn't tolerate people getting close to me when I'm trying to eat."

"Well did you finish your breakfast?" Desmond asked and swiped in the code for the eating area.

"No," she admitted, "I couldn't really people kept coming to try and talk to me. Then Demeter called me and I'm just glad they let me go." She looked down, upset about the entire thing, "I didn't want to eat alone today, or with the children, they're nearly as bad but not in a bad way," she sighed. "Jake just wasn't around," Desmond winced a little. Yeah he wasn't cause he was with Altair getting his hand fixed after Cain fucked it up.

He didn't say that though. "Well, I haven't had breakfast yet either," Desmond said. "I'm not Jake, but I won't let those people get to you if you wanna have breakfast with me,"

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," Desmond smiled at her. "If anyone should be allowed to be normal in this damn place, its you."

"Thanks, I'd like that," she smiled at him too and it took every ounce of will power he had to not kiss her just then. He just wanted to make everything for her better and as good as it should be. But he couldn't be weird about it. He couldn't force it to happen.

Fuck he hadn't had it this bad for a girl since he was seventeen and living on the streets of Atlanta. There had been a girl at the homeless shelter he went to. She'd been beautiful and kind to him and had clearly been into him and they'd seen each other outside the shelter a few times even. She'd been like the first girl he'd really gotten to know outside of the Farm. He'd wanted to ask her out, but he was waiting till he could get a job so they could go on dates and do stuff together. But he'd seen people following him and ran without thinking and used the little money he'd had to catch a bus to D.C. instead and left without saying goodbye.

He knew now those people had probably been his ancestors, but back then it hadn't mattered.

He used to think about her sometimes, before he'd grown up. Her name had been Anna. Then he'd realized what an idiot he'd been. He thought he'd been in love but he was just infatuated. He kinda felt like that now, only it was different. Or he thought it was different. He was wise enough to see the similarities between then and now though.

Didn't mean he wasn't going for it though. He just had to keep it the fuck together and not ruin it. Lucy was giving him a chance, and he was just going to let it happen if it happened. If it didn't? Well, he'd gotten over his first love, he'd move on eventually.

"Great," Desmond said, "I'm also starving so I won't even talk to you, just fill my face with as much food as I possibly can," he said as the lift glided to a halt and they got out. That made Lucy laugh. "And you know that glare Altair has that looks like he could rip your spine out with his eyes?" still smiling Lucy nodded, "Yeah I can totally do that too to all the people who might wanna come bother you. Man, what was the name of that guy," he snapped his fingers to try and recall a name. "You watched Fairly Odd Parents right?"

"Well…"

"You know what I mean," he said, brushing off the fact that Lucy Prime had done so. "You're you, remember?"

"Right," they went to get food. "We didn't really have TV growing up," Desmond nodded, "But when I moved out to go to school in Chicago I basically binged watched the eighties and nineties," she said. "So yeah, I know the Fairly Odd Parents."

"So remember the big tough fairy?" he asked.

"Yes," she nodded a little, getting food.

"That's me," and that made her giggle. "God what was his name, this is bothering me so bad now."

"Jorgen von Strangle," the person in front of him supplied.

"Yeah! That was it. Thanks," he gave them a grin.

"Ah, yeah," and they looked at Desmond, then at Lucy, then at Desmond again and swallowed.

"Don't even think about it," Desmond said and they quickly left the line.

"Thanks," Lucy said. "I recognized that guy. He's one of the officers, asks to have lunch with me every day."

"Yeah? And what do you tell him?"

"I tell him no," they left the line, Desmond's plates filled with fresh food. "He still asks though, even though I told him my boyfriend wouldn't like that," they sat.

"Boyfriend?" Desmond asked.

"Its a lie," Lucy said like she couldn't believe Desmond was so dumb. "But, it makes people who want to get in my pants leave me alone. Everyone thinks its Jake."

"So you're fake cheating on your husband with someone? Wow Lucy that's low," and Lucy laughed again. "I'm telling Jake you're fake cheating on him he's going to be so upset."

"Might even file for divorce," Lucy said mildly.

"Like he'd let you keep the kids," and he was just glad he could make her laugh.

"Also I had a question," Desmond said.

"Hmm?"

"Is Jake mad at me? About the whole mine thing? He's barely talked to me since then."

"He was. I don't think he is anymore. I think Malik talked him out of it."

"Ah, yeah that makes sense," he ate and then said, "Demeter, tell Jake we're here if he wants to join us. His wife misses him," Demeter didn't answer but he knew she'd heard.

"Thanks," she said.

"Of course," Desmond said and then saw someone from over her shoulder trying to approach. Desmond's face went hard and he glared at them and they turned away. "I thought it'd be worse than this," he said, dropping his angry face.

"They just haven't figured out I'm here yet," Lucy said, "usually takes them a few minutes. I'm easy to spot cause of my hair," she brushed some of her bangs from her eyes.

"You know what's up with that?"

"Up with what?"

"You and some of the Assassins are the only pale haired people in the entire ark," he said.

She grimaced, "Pale hair is an extremely recessive trait in proeathans. Red hair doesn't happen _period_ and clear blonde like mine is very rare," she was speaking softly so her voice didn't leave the table. "After the mass die off and the first few years of the proeathan slaughter they decided they wanted to also experiment on us. For cosmetic reasons because proeathans are incredibly vain. So they took all the blondes and redheads out of the plantations and factories and I… I imagine some of them were melted down for DNA parts," she shuttered a little. "Others are probably in 'breeding programs' as they call them to try and create more of them so research can continue. Others are being tested like you'd test animals. Infants probably as well, mothers injected with things or given supplements while they come to term. See what the baby looks like when it comes out. What do _they_ have to do to get pale hair to get eyes that aren't yellow? How do ours stay blue all the time? Or _green_? They're especially interested in green eyes."

"That's disgusting," he said.

Lucy nodded, "Its considered holy, since stars are white," he frowned deeply. "Albinism is considered like… being perfection. I was probably incredibly difficult to synthesize because I'm blonde, blue eyes, fair complexion, freckles. Three of the four don't really _exist_ for proeathans."

"Hey!" suddenly Desmond was being hugged around the head, "Sup nerds," Jake said and draped himself on Desmond.

"Ahg, Jake! C'mon man I'm trying to eat here," he shoved Jake off and he went around and sat next to Lucy.

"I heard you were keeping my girlfriend company," and Jake put his arm around Lucy's shoulders.

"Better me than the people around here," Desmond said. He didn't envy Jake being so close to Lucy. He knew nothing would come of it. Jacob had been gay as all hell and Malik was about as gay as a guy in his position could have been.

"Well none of them are invited to the wedding anyway."

"Jake we're married already, remember," Lucy said.

"I mean the _second_ wedding," he grinned at the both of them.

"God you're so dumb," Desmond said. "Good save on forgetting you were married though."

"No need to be jealous, Desmond," Jake smirked at him and only cause it was Jake did Desmond know he wasn't doing it to be mean.

"Yes, so jealous. Especially of your perpetually jealous, homicidal, boyfriend," Desmond teased right back. "I thought you had a restraining order." That made Jake chuckle.

"Yeah well you should-" and Lucy jammed her elbow into Jake's ribs. "Ow! What the heck," he pouted at her.

"We don't need the mental image," she said.

"But-

"What?" Desmond asked.

"Don't bring up Altair he starts acting like a love sick school girl," she advised Desmond. "I've had to sit through his longing sighing about the entire thing since you've been gone."

"Luuuucy," Jake whined.

"Also you don't need the mental image of Altair naked."

"Ehhhhh," Desmond shrugged, "I don't really care. I mean, I lived as him for a while. I know what he looks like naked."

Jake got a really weird look on his face, "Don't say that its weird."

"Dude, I have his memories in my head."

"Still! He's your grandfather."

Desmond rolled his eyes, "I watched him and Maria fuck once, they had Sef."

"Des _stop_," and now Desmond laughed evilly.

"He looked like a terrible kisser. Please tell me he doesn't eat your face like he used to."

"Lucy," Jake said, "Make him stop."

"No this is actually really entertaining."

"Ahg, you're both terrible," Jake said dramatically, letting Lucy go and throwing his hands up a bit.

Desmond just grinned and ate, Jake sulked a bit. After a minute Lucy said, "I missed this."

"Hmm?" Jake asked.

"Its been so serious the past few months. I missed just having a good time."

"Well can't be doom and gloom all the time," Desmond said. "Though not really many chances for whacky hyjinks right now. Kinda end of the world."

"I know," Lucy said, "its just," she frowned. "I don't want what's left to be so serious all the time," Desmond looked at Jake and Jake was wearing his expression. They both knew Lucy's life expectancy. "Kinda a downer isn't it?"

"Yeah," Desmond agreed.

"That's why you have like eight hundred kids though," Jake put in. "They do stupid shit that puts me and Des _to shame_."

Lucy smiled at that, "Not without trying very hard though since you two clowns are something else."

Desmond started when Pluto was suddenly sitting next to them. "Not to interrupt," he said, and Desmond didn't know if he was lying or not, "but Desmond, Od says he's ready to see you. You should go speak with him. I also heard Andrew say he might just tell Altair regardless of what Ezio said."

"Fucking hell. Okay, tell Od I'm coming," Pluto nodded and vanished. "I need to go do that thing."

"What thing?" Jake asked.

"Proeathan thing, don't worry about it," Desmond said getting up.

"I'll take your plate," Lucy said when he grabbed it.

"Okay, cool, thanks. I'll see you guys around," and he left quickly and caught the lift towards the Ilythian side of the ark.

* * *

><p>become my patron and help me eat by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p>

So patreon is actually something that if you like me you should do. If you ever say you'd buy a book from me that's great, but I really don't wanna wait to publish a book to maybe not have to work terrible jobs. Saying you'd buy a book I wrote is a promise to support me later; but I need support now too.


	23. Moth Wings

Od was waiting for him with Inti and Zorya when Desmond arrived. The Ando and his Sengars were sitting at a table discussing the state of their people when Desmond opened the door. "_Stadalla_," Zorya said in greeting when he came in.

"Zorya, Od, Inti," Desmond nodded and joined them at the table.

"Demeter said you needed to speak to me?" Od asked.

"Yes," Desmond nodded. "Something's come up. Its about the Toba event," and the proeathans instantly looked on edge.

"What about it?" Od asked slowly.

"First, what do you know about it?"

Od's mouth went tight and Desmond saw his veins in his forehead protrude a bit. Then he relaxed. "It was the event that led to the humans dominating the world," he said.

"Great, but what _was_ it?"

"We're not quite sure," Od said. "It, correct me if I'm mistaken, was a global EMP." Desmond's mouth fell open a bit. "Everything that wasn't turned off was after that."

"How?"

"We don't know," Od said. "What happened is a mystery to us. All we know is that that _naterun_ Eve destroyed our civilization," he growled. "Didn't matter if some of us were sympathetic to you humans. She destroyed us all anyway. When our civilization fell we moved quickly to ensure we had a plan. We went into cryostasis and well, you know the rest."

"Oh," Desmond said and felt his plan falling apart. The point of getting his clone_was_ to find Eve and what had happened at Toba. Maybe even recreate it.

"Now what did you need _stadalla_?" Od asked patiently.

"Well, I want to go to Apollo," he said.

"No," he was surprised when Zorya had been the one to speak. She had a deep, masculine, voice with a very pronounced accent but spoke very clearly regardless unlike Od and Inti who could sometimes be unintelligible.

"But you didn't even let me explain-

"The answer is no," Zorya said.

"Od-" Desmond tried.

"I'm sorry Desmond. But if you want to go to Apollo we won't be assisting you."

"You're kidding. Why? At least give me that," he said, trying to not be angry or annoyed with them.

"We would be killed on sight if we showed our faces to our proeathan brethren," Od said. "These Ilythians here are but a quarter of our population. The rest continue to serve the Adjatevs along with our _Adocore_. We are traitors to our species, and our own people. Those with me did not like what our race had become serving the Adjatevs, killing humans when it goes against our way of life. They are loyal to the idea that sentient creatures should be allowed their own will.

"I'm sorry, it isn't that we don't want to help you. Its that getting near Apollo would see any of my men dead. And after having to leave my men to the mine I cannot condone another suicide mission like this."

Desmond sighed and leaned back. Well that was certainly a good reason to refuse him and he knew there'd be no convincing the Ilythians. "Can I at least use one of your ships?"

"If you want, though you may be shot at," Od said.

"Why do you even want to go to Apollo?" Zorya asked.

"I'm going to get my clone. I need him for something."

"What something?"

"We're going to find out what happened at Toba," and the Ilythians' faces grew dark. Desmond continued on, "and maybe recreate what Eve did all those years ago."

"Be careful what you do _stadalla,_" Inti said lowly. "Eve did not live long past Toba. Rumor said she was around long enough to whelp twin sons before she died, though not of complications of their birth."

"Some of the slaves that remained said the energies came from Toba killed her," Zorya said.

"Do you know where Toba is?" Desmond asked.

"No," Od said. "We know the general location, but we could never locate the source of the EMP itself."

"I see," Desmond sat there for a moment. "Well, I'm going to find it anyway. Thanks… I guess," and he pushed himself up to his feet. "Sorry to interrupt you guys."

"Desmond," Od said as he was leaving. "Be careful when you find your clone. He is you, in every way."

"I know," Desmond said and left the room.

Desmond had no idea what he was going to do now. He personally didn't know how to fly a numia, and if wanted a human pilot he'd have to get an okay from Altair. Which would never happen in a million years. The only person who knew how to fly a numia who wasn't an Ilythian was Lucy, but he'd never put her in that sort of danger. Over his dead body Lucy was going anywhere near Apollo.

"Desmond," Venus suddenly said, appearing next to him as Altair, startling him he was so far in his own head.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Cain's looking for you."

"Yeah? For what?"

"He says to come."

"You can tell him I'm not a fucking dog," he growled. Not anymore. He was no one's well behaved lap dog.

There was a moment of silence, "He said he will take you to Apollo. Now would you like me to take you to him?"

"Yes," Desmond said and he followed Venus to a lift and she made it go. She left him at the hanger that led up to the surface. Cain was standing to the side, to his surprise Lucy was with him. "What is it?" he asked as he approached.

"Lucy was telling me your plan," Cain said, nodding to her.

"Yeah? And?"

"If you don't want Altair to stop you we should leave now," Cain said.

"Yeah? You got a plan?"

"They still think I'm on their side. My coming and going won't be important since I won't report you with me," Cain said.

"And I wanted to come," Lucy said.

"No," Desmond said.

"Desmond-

"Lucy, no," he said.

She scowled at him, "Don't make decisions for me."

Desmond fought down his initial protective feelings. He had to make it clear this had nothing to do with his feelings. He straightened and looked down at her. "I run this operation," he told her in a hard voice, "As the Commander and Chief I am _ordering_ you to stay. Is that understood Stillman?" he said his face becoming as hard and mean as his tone. He was so fucking _tired_ of people talking back to him when he made a decision. Even Lucy.

She looked back at him defiantly, meeting his eyes with steely determination. "Yes, sir," she said.

"Good. Now, if you have any information that could be useful, I'd love to hear it," he relaxed a bit.

"Just what I told you already," Lucy said. "If you can get in contact with us at all once you're in there though I could maybe help more."

"No," Cain said. "Demeter needs to be protected. No communication in or out. I'll watch his back though once he has a mask on he'll be invisible."

Lucy frowned a bit, "All right," she said.

"Ah, here we are," Cain turned when a numia was brought out of the hanger's storage and set down in the middle of the landing pad. It looked different than the Ilythian ones. It took him a moment to realize it was the one Cain had chased them to Mexico. "Lets go," he said and left the two of them and boarded the rear ramp entrance.

"You'll be okay?" Lucy asked.

"I'll be fine," Desmond said moving towards the numia. "Wait till we're out of easy range before you tell the others I'm gone."

She nodded, "I wish you'd let me come," she said, "I could help."

"I know. But I can't have others around. And Cain'll help me," he said standing just off the gangway.

"Do you really trust him?"

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Why? He's done so many awful things, Desmond. You know what Altair said about him."

Desmond said nothing for a moment. "Because I trust Altair," he said at last, "and Altair has done a lot of awful things too, like more awful things that I could ever imagine. If I can trust him, I can trust Cain too."

"I guess that makes sense," Lucy said.

"Desmond," Cain called, "lets go."

"Coming," he called back. "Don't let them come after me," he said.

"I won't," she said.

Desmond looked down at her and felt a horrible wave of selfishness wash over him. It occurred to him, standing there, that he might not come back to Demeter. That he might die doing this. Or worse, the proeathans would do horrible things to him, make him their puppet. It was a mad idea, going to Apollo, alone, but you couldn't get close to the base with an army. It would have been suicidal. So one man in, to find his clone. Desmond was that one man, because he, unlike the rest, could fool the proeathans into thinking he was one of them. He was tall enough, and could speak the language, and if needed could switch to the sixth sense. But it was dangerous, especially for him. He was so good at being strong over the past few weeks. And he was going to waste it all for a moment of weakness?

Fuck it, he might die.

"So this is going to be horribly selfish on my part," he started.

"What?"

"But hey, I could die so I'm going to be a little selfish-

"What?" she said again.

"So don't be too mad."

"Wha-

Desmond leaned down, cupped her face and kissed her sweetly. His chest ached horribly. He loved her so much, but she might never love him back. She didn't kiss him back, too shocked he'd even do this. As said Desmond was being pretty damn selfish right now, he knew that. He told her he'd never make her uncomfortable or push her into choosing him. He wasn't, not really, but he was about to go into the belly of the beast, alone, and he could never see her again. He'd never get to see her again, or see her smile, or watch her play with the children, or joke with Jake, or anything. It pained him horribly to know this too. So he was being momentarily selfish so that if it did all go sideways at least he'd have this, one last kiss; for the both of them.

It lasted only a few seconds and then Desmond let her go. "Sorry," he said, not smiling, she was staring at him still, blinking rapidly. Then he went back up the gangway and pressed the button to close the rear hatch. "Bye," he called, "Pray I don't die," and then the gangway was between them, the numia sealing. "Lets go," Desmond told Cain.

"What took you?" Cain asked as the numia gracefully lifted off the landing pad.

"I was just being a bastard," Desmond said and sat in the co-pilot seat. Cain was controlling the numia with one hand on a half dome yoke, his other tapping at a screen to his side.

Cain looked at him, sort of amused, "So the normal then?"

"Shut up," Desmond said, slouching in the chair. Cain just chuckled and the numia started to climb rapidly.

* * *

><p>become my patron and help me eat by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p>

So patreon is actually something that if you like me you should do. If you ever say you'd buy a book from me that's great, but I really don't wanna wait to publish a book to maybe not have to work terrible jobs. Saying you'd buy a book I wrote is a promise to support me later; but I need support now too.


	24. The Gullet

The flight to Apollo was long and pretty boring. Desmond practiced his _sikas_ to pass the time and tried to apply them to the Eagle Vision. When he got stuck he asked Cain about them and Cain would explain what he was doing wrong, how to fix it and get better. At some point he even just took a nap. He was woken by the sound of Cain talking in a language he didn't know.

Rubbing his eyes Desmond looked at what was going on around them. He could see Apollo from here. It looked like something out of a scifi painting. It was a citadel with many tall towers and a great sweeping base. Around it was a lush green forest created by the rain shadow and in the distance he could see the eastern mountains as they flew over the western range. In the setting sun it looked amazing and he felt like _this_ could have been a better future.

"Never seen a proeathan building from the outside?" Cain asked.

"Well, one, Mercury," Desmond said. "Nothing like this though," Desmond restrained himself from pressing his face against the glass to get a better view. "What were you speaking in?"

"Hado," Cain said, "language of the Drell. A few proeathans still speak it. I don't speak their language, my father never taught me."

"What were you saying?"

"I'm coming back empty handed. I need to plan out my next move."

"They believe it?"

"I spent three years hunting your friends," Cain said. "My hands always came back empty until recently. I've be gone for months at a time and then the trail would go cold, I'd return to the others. Then they sent me after you. They know I can find you, I found you in New York and Mexico, this is just a setback."

"So what's the plan?"

"You hide in the numia until I come get you. I'll have the faceless uniform for you."

"Sounds easy enough," Desmond said, Cain nodded slowly.

The numia descended and they headed for a big, open mouthed, hanger, near the base. "Get in the back," Cain ordered and Desmond left as they entered the hanger. "No one should bother my numia while I'm away," Cain said.

"Okay," Desmond said, still trying to look through the window, it wasn't very bright though so he went into the sixth sense to get the heightened vision. "Hey Cain, do you feel that?" he suddenly felt the crawl of foreboding in his stomach again. There also seemed to be a _lot_ of soldiers in the hanger. More than he expected to see. Something felt so incredibly wrong.

"Feel what?" Cain asked.

"I feel the badness again."

"You're in enemy territory now," Cain said as he landed the numia gently. "You'll get used to it," and when Cain looked back at him the feeling grew. "Or not," and he opened the back hatch without warning. Desmond jumped and there were no less than a dozen proeathans standing down the ramp, guns aimed at his face.

Someone started barking at him in a proeathan language. But Desmond couldn't move, he was barely breathing. "Oh shut up he can't understand you," and Cain suddenly was shoving him forward. He stumbled towards the gangway.

"Put hands up," the proeathan language changed to badly spoken English.

Desmond looked back at Cain, "You tricked me," he said disbelievingly.

Cain just smiled at him, "Don't take it too badly."

"Why would you help me though?"

"Put hands up-

"SHUT UP," Desmond yelled at the proeathans, losing control of himself and the glyphs started to glow. The proeathans leaned back, wary.

"I needed you to trust me, kid," Cain said, arm around his shoulders like that morning at the animal farm. He was grinning horribly. "And you were _so_desperate for anyone to guide you; wasn't that hard. But my people wanted you in hand. Now they do," Cain pushed Desmond down the gangway and right into the line of proeathans.

Desmond thrashed when many hands suddenly pushed him down, "Cain!" he yelled. "You bastard!"

Cain looked down at him pitilessly. "Didn't anyone ever tell you proeathans lie?" Cain asked. "I told you I'm a proeathan, what did you expect?"

"I'm gonna kill you!" Desmond yelled.

Cain shrugged, "Okay. I think that's all I need to be here for. Where's Tiamat? I need to tell her where Demeter is," he asked the proeathan in charge.

"No!"

"And will you shut him up?"

One of the proeathans said something but Desmond didn't know what and then he felt something prick his neck.

* * *

><p>And cue freaking out<p>

please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz


	25. Raven Feathers

The familiar darkness surrounded him. He felt no need to panic or fight, no need escape. He was warm and safe now, what more could he have asked for?

He was home.

* * *

><p>So I've basically decided that the underlying theme for the last arc, and this arc is thus: proeathans lie. Remember that c:<p>

please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz


	26. First Flight

ilu guys. Ur all so cute when you freak out about things.

* * *

><p>There was a light, so dim and far away it might have not even been there. Then like Desmond was inside a great egg the light cracked in a spectacular spiderweb, gleaming bright light through larger cracks. The shell was peeled back and Desmond's eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body convulsed. He couldn't breathe and yet his lungs kept filling with air. A long snake was pulled from his throat and he rolled onto his side, convulsing and coughing, his limbs spaseming and above he could hear worried talking.<p>

Eventually the spasms stopped and Desmond lay still, breathing hard, sweat and some sticky fluid soaking him head to toe. His lips felt chapped and he felt like he'd run five marathons.

_"Stadalla_," he heard someone said.

Shaking so hard he felt like he was about to fall apart Desmond looked behind him. There were four proeathans standing behind him. His mouth moved but he said nothing. He was still in shock. One of the proeathans approached and swaddled him in a blanket. He didn't know what was going on, he didn't know where he was; but he did remember why he'd come and what had happened to him. "You safe," one of the proeathans said in broken english. Desmond was still just shaking and when they pulled him off the table he realized it was a pod like he'd been a year ago. Only the sides were down.

His legs were weak and the proeathan with the blanket around him wiped him dry. Then clothes were thrust at him and they helped him dress. Shirt, pants, full foot sandals. Over it went a flowing, shapeless, robe that reached the ground and covered his hands to the wrist. They gave him gloves to hide the glyphs on his skin. That was when he realized his bracelet was gone. He hadn't taken it off when he'd left Demeter. Stupid mistake. He could barely talk though to ask. A light weight, surprisingly breathable, mask was placed on his head, concealing his face and the glyphs from view.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The proeathans just put their fingers to their lips, saying nothing to him, and led him out of the room. He was too stunned and disorientated to focus on where he was going. There were no people in the halls around them, just him and the four proeathan who were on either side and front and back. His head hurt and for a second he wasn't in Apollo. He was in Damascus, hands clasped, walking through dusty streets in the company of imams were sang hymns softly to each other on their way the mosque. Then reality snapped back into place. He was in Apollo, and he was very much alone. Cain had betrayed him and who knew who these proeathans were.

He was led to a room that looked like a monk's cell. Bed, a desk and chair, and series of coat hooks along the near wall. That was it. "Safe here," one proeathan said in a whisper. "Faceless sleep here. Sleep, we will come again," and then they were gone and the door was closed. Vaguely, he tried it. As expected it was locked.

He was too exhausted to do anything else. He pulled off the robe and sandals and got under the covers. The air was chilly, like a day in fall back in New York. He kept his clothes on and the mask. He remembered Venus saying that very devout faceless slept with them on.

As soon as his head hit the pillow he was asleep.

He didn't know how long he slept. But when he woke there was a proeathan sitting in the chair in his little room, watching him sleep creepily enough. He blinked awake and reached up under the mask to rub his face and eyes. He still felt so utterly exhausted.

He looked at the proeathan a bit more and saw that they wore no mask, and unlike the Ilythians they were white. They were also _very_ female, and with red and black clothing fitted to accentuate the curve of her hips and her narrow waist. Her hair was black and long with straight bangs. She had large yellow eyes and a small nose and wore the reddest lipstick Desmond had ever seen in his life.

"Don't speak," she said as Desmond sat up slowly, probably speaking the best English a proeathan he'd ever met had spoken. There was no getting rid of that accent. But it was very gentle. She'd clearly been practicing. "Get dressed, all will be explained.

He sat sideways on the bed and looked at her. He went into Eagle Vision but oddly enough, she was just grey. He sharpened his eyes to get another perspective. But even when he looked into the future she wasn't moving. She was just sitting there, waiting for him. With a grunt he got to his feet, put on his sandals and pulled the robe over his body.

"Follow me," she said, finally getting up and went to the door. She was a bit taller than him and Desmond must have been _really_ tired because his first thought as she walked away from him was she had a fantastic ass. Yeah, definitely tired. She stopped at the door when he followed her, "Also, Pipek; eyes," she pointed up to her own.

Eyes? And who was Pipek?

Then he remembered, right, _his_ eyes. He went into Eagle Vision. She nodded and walked out, he followed.

They went to a lift and the proeathan input their destination. Desmond wanted to talk so badly, but he remembered he needed to stay quiet. Who knew if anyone was listening, and he still didn't know if he could trust this woman. The lift moved quickly to who knew where before finally coming to a halt what felt like a very long ways away. But then Apollo had appeared huge. That thought made him suddenly nervous though. What if he wasn't still in Apollo?

The woman walked out and Desmond kept stride with her. She said something to him in proeathan as they walked past a pair of other proeathans who did everything in their power to not look at either of them. Desmond just nodded, what else could he do?

After a few hundred feet they went into a room. It looked like an office. "You can speak now," the woman said in her slightly accented English where she seemed to hold onto the vowels just a _bit_ too long.

"Mask?" he asked.

"You can remove it. The Adjatevs do not have permission to tap my personal study," and she went over to the desk there and sat. "Please," she said. Desmond removed his mask and sat. "I'm sure you have questions," she said.

"Yeah, first; where's Cain? I'm gonna kill him," he growled.

The woman just furrowed her brow, "I don't know anyone named Cain," she said.

Desmond thought about describing Cain but then he realized; white, black hair, yellow eyes, was probably the worst description he could give. He had to assume Cain wouldn't stay in the sixth sense in Apollo either. Among his kind blue would have stood out and while Cain had a god complex a mile long he didn't really like being known unless he decided he did.

"Never mind," he grumbled, "Who are you?"

"My name is Mars Spar," she said, "I'm part of the Neotrall Triad of Netall people."

"Okay," Desmond said slowly, digesting that information. "Am I still in Apollo?"

"Yes."

"Why… are you helping me?"

Mars leaned back in her chair, looking at him. "What do you know about my people, _stadalla_?" she asked.

"I just know the Ilythians," he said.

She smiled slightly, amused or sad. "The Hedren faction of the Ilythians broke away from the rest of their people because of an ideological difference," she said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but their _Ando_ is Od Sighted."

"That's right," he said.

"A very free thinking, young, Ilythian if I'm not mistaken."

"I dunno, he seemed pretty old to me," Desmond said.

"He's one of the youngest _Andos_ the Ilythians have ever had."

"Okay so I never asked cause I thought it'd be rude, but what the fuck is an_Ando_?"

Mars thought on that a moment, clearly trying to come up with a way to explain it in English. "He was a governor," she said. "That is the best I can describe it without giving you a long history and political lesson and I know you don't have time or patience for that."

"Fair enough," Desmond said.

"The Hedren are an extreme faction within our people, always have been. They believe in peace, in all things, and will go to any lengths to achieve it, even murder," huh, well that sounded like the Assassins. "During the First War they sided with the humans." Well that explained why Od was so upset about the Toba event.

"Did Od lead in that time?"

"No," she said. "The Hedren were barred from our arks along with several other extremist factions and those who sided with the humans. They're all dead now."

"But you just said-

"Od and his _Sengars_ resurrected the old movement. They gained momentum, the leaders of Apollo tried to stop them, so they left."

"Okay? I don't know what this all means I guess."

"The proeathans you've met so far have been on two opposite spectrums haven't they? One wants you dead, the other wants to help you and have left their lives behind to do so. We're not all like that," she said. Desmond was starting to piece together what she was saying. "There was sympathizers to the human cause in all the bases," she said.

"Then why haven't they helped?"

Mars looked uncomfortable. "We want to," she said. "But the Adjatevs are the main force not just here in Apollo, but across the planet. They control_everything_. If we spoke up, we'd end up like those of us that didn't make it to the wakening."

Desmond hesitated, "What happened to them? I thought just eight proeathan city states survived."

She smiled sharply, sadly. "No. There were _dozens_ of city states before the Fall," she said. "Even after the Stars were made and what happened at Toba we still vastly outnumbered your species by the tens of millions." Desmond felt a cold knot form in his stomach. "But the Adjatev nation was the strongest by far, they'd been able to withstand the Toba blast the best. Millions died in the chaos after Toba. There was looting and riots and even the city of Atlantis was awash in blood. And that was nothing to say for the attacks on us that followed in the coming weeks and months by you humans. It was an _apocalypse_ on the scale that you humans still speak of it in your scripture.

"The Adjatevs made the bases you know about. The Stars, Venus, Apollo, Pluto, Juno and the rest. They let certain nations, of what remained of their population after Toba, seek refuge with them. We were all much smaller and weaker than the Adjatevs, and didn't have the resources or the ability to make the vast cryostasis chambers like the Adjatevs did. But other nations had their own cryostasis chambers to house their people till a time when the world had healed and humans no longer detested us. Many set their wake up time to be tens of thousands of years in the future, some even would still be asleep to this day."

"But that didn't happen?" Desmond said.

"At some time, we don't know when, the Adjatevs woke. Not many of them, a small force really, perhaps a few thousand years after we went to sleep. They went around the world and _sabotaged_ the rest of the nations," Desmond just stared at her. "The genocide committed by the Adjatevs during this time was on a scale as large as their eradication of modern humans. Billions died in their cyro chambers, leaving only six of each nation to survive, to know their fate.

"But when the Adjatevs told us what had happened, what they'd _done_ to our people, it scared us, _stadalla_. Those who would fight against them did not, and just stepped aside. Those who'd want to help you stayed quiet. We may fear you, but you haven't killed nearly our entire species."

"So its obey, or die," Desmond said.

"Yes," she said. "Otherwise you'd have more than just the fanatic Hedren helping you."

"So, what about you?" he asked.

"I'm a sympathizer," she said. "I don't want you dead."

"But you are scared of me," he said.

She swallowed, "Everyone's afraid of something."

"How do I know I can trust you?" he squinted at her. "The last proeathan I trusted let me get captured."

"I understand your hesitation, trust me, I do," Mars said and opened a drawer in her desk. She set a matte black sphere on the desk. "I was told to give this to you once you'd woken," she said.

"Where'd you get that?" he asked reaching out and taking the sphere.

"It was given to me by one of the leaders of the sympathizers," she said. "I don't know what it is, just that I was supposed to give it to you. A peace offering I was told. What is it?"

Desmond pressed the sphere to his wrist, the hard surface gave and formed around his wrist. "A secret," he said.

"Very well," she said.

"What's your angle?" Desmond asked

"I want to help you," Mars said. "I know you wouldn't just come here for no reason. Tell me, I'll see what I can do."

Desmond didn't know how much he could trust her, but she had given him his weapon back, and she was defenseless. "I'm looking for my clone. Is he in Apollo?"

"Yes," she said.

"Where?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'll see what I can do about finding him."

"Okay, next important question, won't the Adjatevs miss me from that pod?"

"Once the pod is active it doesn't need to be tampered with and only alerts if what's inside it is starting to break down. Otherwise there's no difference between a full or empty pod."

"Who were those people who got me out?"

"My fellow Netall who are sympathetic towards you," she said. "We put you somewhere safe after you were in there, and the realm of the faceless is forbidden except for other faceless."

"How long was I in that damn thing?"

"Ten days," she said. Well that explained why he didn't have any muscle atrophy. He was sure the others were _freaking out _by now though. And he was here, alone.

"Anything else I need to know?"

"Kamala said he'd come see you soon," she said.

"Who?"

"Kamala, he arranged all this. Your garb and place in the faceless, us talking, the sphere. Kamala made it happen, he's been working on it since you arrived."

"I see," Desmond said. "Now what?"

"You're not my prisoner," Mars said. "I also have no idea where your clone is and I don't know if I'll be able to find him. The Adjatev leaders like to keep him close."

"Alright. I'm going to start looking around. What if I get lost?"

"I've registered you as a new Netalish faceless. Their quarters are… strange and are not always where you think they'll be. If you're out past curfew older faceless will be sent to retrieve you."

"Okay, great," Desmond said and put the mask back on. Mars got up from her chair and went around to open the door.

"Be careful," she said before opening it. "I… can't help you if you're discovered." Desmond nodded. "Eyes, Pipek," she reminded him.

"What's Pipek?" he asked.

"Its your name, isn't it?"

"I mean… I guess?" he said, confused.

"Kamala told us to call you that. Its a proeathan name at least, so they won't ask about it."

"Okay," Desmond nodded. "Well, here I go I guess," and he waited for Mars to open the door for him. Once she did he went through. Mars didn't follow. He turned around and looked at her. She said something in what was clearly her native tongue and waved before closing the door again, leaving Desmond alone. He cursed himself. He hadn't asked where he could get something to eat.

* * *

><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	27. Branch of the Fruit Dove

posting a bit earlier today cause I was just SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS CHAPTER! This is one of my fave chapters so far but I'm also a huge fucking sucker for world building things. Next chapter is also really really EXCITING! Even though not a lot happens.

Yes, okay, moving on

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><p>After wandering around Apollo for a while Desmond found a fairly busy cross section of the base and found a place to sit and watch. It didn't help that he was still weak from being in that pod and all that walking had exhausted him. Sitting on a bench off to the side in a busy foyer reminded Desmond of sitting on a park bench in New York City, people watching. Only instead of humans and being outside he was inside and watching proeathans. This was clearly a very busy part of Apollo, because they were everywhere, walking up and down the atrium in groups or alone, talking.<p>

Desmond had expected the amount of proeathans in Apollo. They were, predictably, everywhere. He noticed that there really were eight distinct types of proeathans too, despite all having the same hair and eye color. Their clothes and how they wore their hair was clearly very important to the proeathan nations. In a species where everyone basically looked the same it was obvious that both national pride and individual identifiers were very important to their society. Even more than with humans proeathans seemed to want to both look different but also be part of their nation.

There were proeathans who dressed similarly to the AIs before they'd broken their coding, flowing garments, veils, capes, and spectacular headdresses and headgear. He got the feeling they were the Adjatevs, since they'd made the AIs. The Adjatevs were all white as well. They always walked with an air of superiority. Well of course. They'd destroyed the world twice over, once for the proeathans, and then again for the humans, destroying their entire population. They knew they were at the top of the food chain and their air was absolute arrogance.

Another group were clearly the Ilythians that remained in Apollo, and they were the only black proeathans Desmond saw, and wore fitted, simple, clothing that looked like they were all military issue. Or government issue. The same boring white shirts and dark grey slacks. Women wore their hair in ponytails or braids, the men kept their hair short. Not a single one of them didn't look like they couldn't fuck you up either. He remembered what Od had told him about his people, they strove for absolute peace in all things, and killing was a means to an end for them to achieve this. Every Ilythian he'd met had been a warrior, it seemed the entire nation was.

The third group he could put a name to were probably the Netall. They seemed especially keen on the color red with cutting black accents. Women walked around in pure red dresses that seemed to shimmer like a fire while they walked. Some of them even dyed parts of their hair red, like the ends or the roots though never their full head. They all also had some form of red face makeup. Most Netall had crimson lipstick, but a few sported striking red eyeshadow or more stylized red markings around their eyes, or across their forehead or cheeks.

The other five nations were equally as structured. One group of them wore their black hair long, and probably would have been down to the floor. Except that they all wore their hair in elaborate braided architecture that they braided all sorts of things into. He saw jewels and flowers and beads of every color and bows and ribbons. Their clothes reflected their hair by being floral and exaggerated patterns, only in black and white and were shapeless in style.

Another nation wore all black or dark grey, and they freaked Desmond out the most. Black shirts, black pants, black dresses, without an inch of skin to show except for their faces which were as were the color of bleached flour. Their black hair was worn long and straight and they were so pale they were nearly translucent. They all looked sickly to Desmond, their yellow eyes were especially pale and seemed too large for their skulls making them sort of bulge out a bit.

Another nation still wore barely any clothes at all and exposed their pale skin of their shoulders, arms, and legs nearly up to their crotches. Their clothes were more just a long scarf they'd wrapped around themselves to preserve their modesty. Most of them were bald but a few sported fringes or grew out the hair in front of their ears. They all also sported white tattoos on their arms, chests and legs though at a distance Desmond couldn't see what they looked like. At least until Desmond looked at them in the sixth sense and their tattoos glowed in brilliant colors, reminding him of the burning of different elements.

The forth were very plain like the Ilythians, at least at first glance. In the sixth sense he saw that under different lenses of his sight their clothes and even their hair was dyed different colors or patterns. They were also the only proeathans he saw who regularly went around switching up into the sixth sense to check on who they were talking to. It made no sense to him.

The last nation reminded him of the Netall and seemed to be _about_ a certain color. Only their color was green and gold. It was everywhere on them and all the men wore pale green, sheer, veils, across their faces, their black hair worn up under a golden bonnet. The women in green all wore green or grey or gold colored turbans. They also 'jingled' when they walked and Desmond saw that was because of a strand of metal beads they wore either around their waist or as a bracelet or anklet they'd wrapped around their wrist or ankle a few times.

While seeing so much _difference_ amid a people he'd only known through the Ilythians or in the soldiers was a shock he'd… kinda also expected it. They didn't dress like humans, nor have the same rules to them. If anything he kinda appreciated the proeathans for how they dressed and acted towards each other, specking softly, not touching one another, not looking too long at each other. He especially liked how they didn't look too hard at him. Once they saw his mask, or his shapeless pale robes their eyes slid right off him like they knew not to look too long at a faceless. And that was fine with him. In fact all of it was fine. All of it he could deal with an accept and had expected.

What he hadn't expected were all the _humans_.

Humans dressed slightly like proeathans. Clearly to mark them as which nation they belonged to. Netalish humans dressed in red, Adjatev ones with caps and veils, some dressed all in black. He knew just from watching they were all slaves because they all had the same marking. Thick metal bands around their wrists, ankles, and throats.

But these weren't the same people he'd seen on his travels, who were harrowed and afraid of being discovered. Or even the former slaves he'd seen in Demeter who hated the proeathans. No these people were almost… happy? Content maybe? Perhaps the word placated would have been better? Or maybe resigned? He could tell in the looks they gave each other as they walked around, sometimes following proeathans, sometimes by themselves, that they hated this and were sympathetic towards their fellows. But there was also that _look_ like they _knew_ they were lucky. They weren't out in the plantations, or sent to the mines or working in the factories and probably weren't being experimented on for horrible things. They were slaves, but they had a better life than their fellow humans.

Desmond remembered wondering where all the blondes and red heads were in Demeter. Shaun and Lucy were the only ones in Demeter with pale hair, and one of the few with light eyes. But the thing Desmond noticed the more he watched the slaves was that… they all had some form of blonde or red hair, and nearly all of them had blue or green eyes. He saw a few with darker eyes, but they were rare. And that answered his question of where all the fair haired humans had gone. They'd become house slaves to the proeathans of Apollo and probably the other bases at that.

He was so completely grossed out by the entire thing.

But he was also glad to know that at least they seemed well fed, looked clean and were clothed. They probably weren't forced into concentration camp style lodging where it was a dozen people to a room and disease spread like wild fire. And they weren't out in the wilderness starving or dead on the ground or being hunted by proeathan soldiers. They were slaves yes. But they were safe here if nothing else.

Desmond sat there for a while, watching all the proeathans and humans moving about, doing this or that. He was so focused on looking at everyone that he didn't notice come up next to him and sit on the bench with him. "Don't look at me," they said softly in Ilythian. Desmond didn't move, he barely dared to breathe actually. "I'm a friend. Kamala sent me."

"Who's Kamala?" he asked, breathing again, also in Ilythian.

"A friend."

"Who are you?"

"My name isn't important."

"What do you want?"

"You've been sitting here a while. Kamala was worried about you. Everything all right?"

"Just people watching," Desmond said. "And I don't know where I can get food, I'm starving."

"Follow behind me when you feel ready. I'll be around the corner to the left. I'll show you," he said. Desmond nodded a little. "And don't speak again," and they said something else to him in some other proeathan language and got up and walked off. Desmond waited nearly half an hour before he got up and walked to the left. His legs felt weak and he was so tired. He needed to get something in his stomach since he knew this feeling. He was famished.

He walked around the corner but didn't know what to do from there. He didn't know what the proeathan who had spoken to him looked like. Then, to his complete surprise someone walked past him and _bumped_ into him. Proeathans didn't touch in public it seemed, touch based empathy was apparently a thing. That meant that they'd bumped him on purpose. That was who he had to follow. So he did, though appeared to not, walking a dozen or so feet behind them.

They walked for a bit before arriving at what looked like… a cafe? It seemed the proeathans had those things too. He'd expected a cafeteria like they had at Demeter. But there was nothing of the sort. His proeathan guide turned around for the first time and Desmond could finally get a good look at him. They were one of the scary proeathans who wore all black. They said something in their language clearly to him but of course Desmond didn't reply. He just cocked his head to the side. The man approached him and said something else but Desmond of course couldn't understand.

Once he was closer he said, in Ilythian again, "Faceless pay for nothing," his voice so soft Desmond had to strain to hear. That's when Desmond got the picture. He could eat for free. Awesome. He waved the man away, letting him appear annoyed with his existence and the man said something that was clearly rude because several of the proeathans around turned and looked at him either aghast or like they wanted to punch him. Desmond just shooed him away again and they turned on his heel and stomped away.

He wandered around that area for a bit before going into the cafe thing. There were tables, nearly all empty, and a bar though no alcohol behind it it seemed. Instead the bar was where food was made. No one greeted him so he just sat.

While he waited he looked around and saw some of the staff in the back corner, clearly bickering over who'd have to serve him. He smiled to himself. Oh if only they _knew_. They'd probably love to serve a faceless over what he really was.

In the end none of the proeathans came to help him and instead a human woman was shoved towards him. She seemed petrified of him. She said something to him in what was clearly horrible proeathan because the staff in the back were laughing into their hands. He turned and looked right at them, staring them down and made his eyes go blue. The proeathans _wilted_ under his stare and left his sight, going somewhere else where he couldn't stare at them.

He looked back at the woman, she was blonde and pretty with brown eyes and freckles. He smiled at her so she knew now to be scared. She spoke to him in the proeathan language again but he shook his head, he didn't know that one. She deflated some. "This, you know this?" she asked curiously. She spoke English! Though it was with a thick German accent. Desmond nodded. "Why don't you talk?" she asked. He pointed to his mask. "Oh… okay," though he knew she didn't understand. "Here," she handed him a red rod that fit easily in his palm. After a second he found a button on it and pressed it. He did his best not to start in surprise with a holo screen erupted from along the side. It was the menu.

He fiddled with it for a second before finding a setting to just change everything to pictures since even translating it into Ilythian didn't help. He didn't _know_ what the words meant other than simple things like 'sandwich', 'cold drink', he wanted pictures. The woman just stood there waiting while he looked at what was here. Like Lucy had said there was a lot of vegetables, and a lot of bread. No seafood though.

Finally he found something he wanted, and pointed at it, showing it to the woman. It was a pretty normal looking sandwich actually though stocked with veggies instead of meat. Then he flipped to where the pictures of drinks were and pointed at some weird bright yellow milkshake looking thing with blue balls in the bottom that reminded him of bubble tea. He didn't know what was in either but he wanted to try it.

"Okay," she nodded and made to take the rod back. Desmond just shook his head and kept it back. He might be hungry still after that. She seemed to understand and nodded again and left.

Desmond waited quietly for his food and watched as the proeathans at the bar made his meal. The woman brought his food first. It was a good sandwich. It had cucumbers and spinach and and tomatoes and lettuce and some hot pepper of some sort and some kind of mild cheese. It was sort of difficult to eat with the mask on but he found if he cut it into bite sized chunks it made it easier to eat. He was half finished when she brought his drink. He knew he'd be hungry after this though. He brought out the menu before she left and pointed at something else. She nodded, leaving him to his meal.

The milkshake thing was nearly overwhelmingly vanilla flavor. The blue balls at the bottom were blueberries and there were chunks of… pineapple? in the milkshake. It was a very strange combination. But he actually kinda liked it.

He polished off the sandwich and was sucking on his milkshake thing, which was easy to eat under his mask because of the straw, when the woman brought him the other thing he'd ordered, another, different, sandwich with meat in it. Once he'd finished that he felt much better. He sat there for a while digesting,.

The woman came, took his dirty plates and then came back to see if he wanted anything else. He'd looked at her a few times through the sixth sense. And he hadn't oblivious to her existence while he'd been here. He knew she was a slave, he wondered what slaves ate. Probably not food like this. He ordered something simple from the menu and gave her the rod back.

When she came back with it he put it in front of the chair across from him. "Are you expecting someone?" she asked him. He just reached out and grabbed her wrist, she froze. She was afraid of him. He pointed at the food, then at her. "What—?" though he knew she understood. He pointed at her again. "I couldn't."

Desmond got up, she was average height for a modern human, and Desmond was a head taller than her. He guided her over to the chair and made her sit. She swallowed and looked behind him, proeathans were looking at her. He followed her gaze to some of the workers. He stared every proeathan in the cafe down and they all looked away. He turned back to her and motioned for her to eat.

The woman hesitated a moment more before eating quickly. The house slaves here might get fed and clothed and housed, but their food was clearly not what it could have been. Or maybe it was just this woman who had a shitty proeathan keeper. Regardless if he had the power of a faceless he'd do what he could for the humans in this blasted place.

She finished quickly and wiped her mouth and hands suddenly subconsciously. "Uh… thank you," and she slid out of the chair, looking around warily. Then she looked back at Desmond. "Thank you," she said again.

He hugged her and heard a few gasps from other proeathans around the cafe area. "You're welcome," he whispered into her ear. When he released her he smiled at her and after fixing the proeathans with another cold stare he left the cafe.

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><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	28. Says the Mockingbird

By the end of the day Desmond had gotten a whole lot of _nothing_ done. He was also super lost. But as Mars had promised someone came and found him during curfew and brought him back to the halls of the faceless. They gave him dinner there, none of them talked to him, or made to talk to him. Looked like he was wearing the correct mask at any rate. Once dinner, which had been salad with fruit and nuts in it weirdly enough, was over he was shown back to his room. Only then did they talk to him, though in some language he had no idea. He didn't shake his head or nod or anything and eventually they just sighed and left. Desmond went into his sleeping cell after that.

New clothes had been provided to him and now he could investigate his cell a bit more. There was a semi private bathroom that was an odd pentagon shape. Each of the five walls had a door that clearly led to other sleeping cells. In the middle was a central pillar system with two shower boxes, two sinks and two toilets. Everything was separated by wall dividers, and in the case of the toilets doors, so everyone had privacy. Desmond burned to try the doors, but he didn't.

Eventually he just went back to his cell and removed his outer robe and shoes and laid out on the bed. He was used to sleeping fully clothed at this point so didn't undress more. Even the gloves didn't bother him anymore.

He had to find his clone as quickly as possible. Mars could help him, but he had no idea how to get to her if he needed her. And this Kamala guy, who was he? He was clearly the organizer of this entire thing. He wanted to meet him since he was clearly watching Desmond from somewhere.

He was wary of the proeathans claiming to be on his side though. Who knew if they really were. Proeathans lied. He kept having to learn that lesson the hard way. Cain would throw something at him or give him a light smack upside the head for him failing to get this lesson. Thinking about Cain though enraged him. He was stuck here, alone, because of that asshole. He remembered what Cain had said before he'd been knocked out. 'Where's Tiamat?' and that he was going to tell her where Demeter was. Who was Tiamat? He knew she was an ancient Mesopotamian goddess of life and destruction. But who was she in this proeathan soup. He had a feeling he'd need to kill her.

But he had to get his priorities in line first. He should probably learn what had happened to Demeter, if anything. Then locate his clone. _Then_ find Cain and beat his smug face in. Then figure out how to get his clone out of here and get back to Demeter if it was still standing. He'd been out for ten days though. A lot could happen in ten days.

He couldn't stress about it too much right now though. He needed to focus on one thing at a time.

He went to sleep with a full head.

The next day Desmond spent wandering Apollo after breakfast again. This time though he kept track of where he was via a mental map. For lunch he went to another cafe thing in Apollo, which honestly functioned more like a city itself, or a mall, and was again served by a human. Once he'd finished eating he insisted they eat something too and like the woman yesterday they were hesitant until Desmond pushed them into the seat. The man serving him looked nearly about to weep while he ate. When curfew came around Desmond went back to the faceless quarters and after a bit of extra wandering found where he had to go.

He did the same thing, covering different parts of Apollo over the next three days. No one bothered him, and he didn't hear from Mars once, and no one came up to him like the first day. He was also a horrible snoop and checked out the cells of the other faceless who shared the bathroom with him. They were all copies of Desmond's and uninteresting.

On his sixth day awake Desmond woke to someone in his room. At first he thought it was Mars but realized they weren't _tall_ enough to be Mars. And they were bigger. He pretended to be asleep and just laid where he was, thinking of what he should do.

They let him lay there before they said, "I know you're awake."

Desmond was on his feet in an instant because it was _Cain_. The immortal didn't even fight him when he slammed him into the wall, hands around his throat. "I should put you Under," Desmond growled.

"If it'll make you feel better," Cain said, his voice tight and strained from Desmond strangling him.

But there was something in Cain now that made him hold back. Cain wasn't fighting him. He wasn't mocking Desmond or acting like how he'd expect Cain to act right now. There was no gloating, no easy beat down for Desmond. Cain was just letting Desmond do what he wanted. And if that included murdering him he'd clearly made peace with that.

His hands loosened a bit. Cain still didn't react. "What the _fuck_," his hands gave Cain's neck a squeeze, "Cain," he hissed.

"I needed your reaction to be reunion," Cain said, his voice still rather thin. "I'm sorry."

"_Really_?" Desmond snapped. "You let me get put back in that fucking _pod_. I lived in one of those for _five years_."

"I know," Cain said. "So I won't blame you if you want to strangle me, or snap my neck."

"I should," Desmond growled.

"Or you can wait to kill me once we're back at Demeter. I've heard shooting people in the head is _extremely_ cathartic."

Desmond looked at Cain, furious, but it was less then it had been. His hands relaxed and he removed them from around Cain's neck. He took a step back and lifted his mask from his face. "Don't think I'm not going to kill you. But not now."

"That's fine," Cain said and tugged on his collar and moved from being against the wall.

"Did you tell them where Demeter is?"

Cain scoffed, "What do you take me for?"

"A traitor," Desmond growled.

"They don't even know about Demeter," Cain said.

"But you said-

"I said it in English stupid," Cain poked him in the chest. "The only person who understood me when I brought you around was you. Like I said, I needed your reaction to be genuine, so they'd believe me when I told them I'd captured you. Cause not for nothing kid, but you're shit at pretending." Desmond scowled at him. "Demeter is safe."

"Why should I trust you?" he growled, "You lie."

"Your plan was foolish from the start. You didn't really even have one. I improvised, and now you have unrestricted access to the entirety of Apollo. No sneaking around, no worried about being found. You're invisible. I did that. I also arranged for you to get taken out of that pod and this returned to you." He grabbed Desmond's right wrist and lifted it, meaning the bracelet.

"No you didn't. Mars said it was someone else."

Cain smiled in a 'this idiot' sort of way. That made Desmond annoyed. "I'm Kamala," he said. "And I made all this happen, and got you out of the way for ten days so I could do what needed doing."

"Which was?"

Cain released his wrist, "The Adjatevs promised me something if I brought you to them. I did. There was no agreement about who got to keep you though."

"What did they promise you?" Desmond asked.

"That's my business," Cain said nicely, but in a mean way.

"Cain," he growled.

"You can ask all you want, but I'm not going to tell you," Cain said. "Now Mars told me she has news on your clone. Do you want to go find him still? Or have you enjoyed seeing Apollo?"

Desmond didn't jump in head first this time. He lingered on the dock looking into the depths where there could be sharks. "Have you been watching me?"

"Yes," Cain said, "keeping an eye on you so you didn't get into trouble while Mars hunted down your clone."

"Why didn't you ever come an help me?"

"Would you have accepted it?" Cain asked, Desmond said nothing. No, he wouldn't have. "I also wanted you to _see_ the people you and Demeter hate in a different light. Most of them are just normal people who don't want you dead. People who are _scared_ of this world just like you."

"You want me to by sympathetic to them. After what they've done, or let happen to us?"

"No," Cain said. "But I want you to understand that what you do doesn't just effect the army who's killing you. Its all these people here, and all the humans here too. Apollo is a contained, nearly self sufficient city. It gets all its energy and water from itself, and food is shipped in-

"From plantations," Desmond snapped. "They might not be oppressors, but they let it happen."

"I won't disagree," Cain said. "But so were you, once." Desmond just frowned, confused. "I had history lessons before I left to hunt your friends down four years ago. It was important that I _knew_ what had happened. There were… so many horrible things that happened since I was away. Things I might have been able to prevent, or not last as long. Good things happened too of course. But some things hadn't changed at all. People who were different, who didn't belong, carried the world on their backs and people like you benefitted from it."

"I didn't," Desmond said, "I worked my ass off to live."

"But you worked, and you had your looks going for you. You look like some farm boy from the midwest. Open eyes, will believe what anyone tells you. Light skin, even if it's on the darker side. You benefitted without knowing. You, and_everyone_ like you weren't oppressors, but you still let marginalized people be taken advantage of. You let it happen and continue to happen. You aren't much better than them honestly. I know the system is messed up, its been like that for a very long time. But its there, and you aren't exempt from it. These proeathans aren't exempt from it either. But if you're innocent of it, so are they."

Desmond didn't know how to take that. Except that he knew… Cain was right. Fucking Cain was _right_.

"I wanted you to see that," Cain said, "that for how much I'm sure you _hate_ the proeathans, for very good reasons I might add, that they're not evil. That they aren't just this faceless entity looming over the world. Understand?"

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Good. Now, shall we go see Mars? We should get this done with before Altair has an aneurism with worry."

Desmond smiled a little at that, "I still don't really trust you," he said.

"That's fine," Cain said, "But I still trust you," and Desmond didn't know what to do with that sudden weight Cain put into his hands. "Now get dressed and we'll go see Mars."

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><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	29. Brewers

gg be honest with me: how often do you just reread FM from start to finish? Cause _damn_.

Heron, I'm glad you're starting to feel better!

Falcon… *squints* how old are you? The only people who call me Ms. are children.

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><p>Mars' office was just like how Desmond had seen it last. The only change was that Mars had changed her clothes. She didn't look surprised to see them either. "Kamala, I see you found him as promised," she said and almost sounded afraid of Cain.<p>

"Yes," Cain said and put his hand on Desmond's head, making him sit. "None too worse for wear than when I left him." Desmond batted Cain's hand away angrily and glared at him, Cain just sort of smiled at him. Desmond pulled off his mask. "Time to move into phase two," he said, sitting next to Cain. "Have you located the clone yet?"

"Yes," Mars said.

"Then what's the hold up, lets go," Desmond said.

"Its not so simple," Mars said. "The Adjatevs are keeping him with Tiamat."

"Okay? Is that supposed to mean something to me? Who's Tiamat?" Desmond asked, looking at the both of them.

"I assume you know who Hera is?" Mars asked, Desmond nodded. "Then you know she was our High Priestess before everything saw an end," again Desmond nodded. "Tiamat is like that."

"Oh don't sugar coat it for the boy," Cain said. "Tiamat is the oldest living proeathan. No one knows how old she is anymore and she's not affiliated with any of the eight nations living in Apollo. She's also a hugely powerful psychic; maybe even more powerful than you," he said looking at Desmond.

"Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Desmond asked.

"She's a telepath," Cain said.

"But you told me telepaths are useless. The mind isn't linear," Desmond said.

"This is true," Cain said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looking at Desmond. "But if the telepath in question also doesn't use their telepathy in a linear fashion it becomes feasible."

"Tiamat's the only one we know who can do that," Mars said.

"There's a reason the ancient Sumerians worshiped Tiamat as a goddess of both life and destruction," Cain said. "When a proeathan gets old enough, their minds change. In most cases they just shut down, destroy themselves. Proeathans don't die of old age, they die of brain entropy."

"Tiamat has none does she," Desmond said.

"Correct. No idea how. What caused it."

"We think she's immortal," Mars said.

Desmond looked skeptically at Cain, "What do you think?"

"I don't know. I've never been that close to her. She broadcasts a psyonic wavelength similar to the Eden that messes with my head. Gives me headaches and nose bleeds just getting in her range."

"But my clone is with her?" Desmond asked.

"Yes," Mars said.

"What's she do to other people who aren't Cain?"

"Total psychic silencing," Mars said. "Proeathans can't use their sixth sense at all. Worst cases will cause headaches."

"What about humans? What about my clone?"

"Humans are fine for the most part. They rarely have psyonic abilities-

"Yeah but this is _my clone_. He's a second _stadalla_ with none of the fun shit included that makes him work properly. But he's still a genetic replica of me. Meaning he's a psychic too. What's going on with him?"

"He seems fine," Mars said. "Its why they've had him tend to her. She doesn't seem to effect him. Or if she does, not in a harmful way."

"So then I should be fine?"

"Yes," Mars said.

"When we first came here," Desmond said, looking at Cain. "You said tell Tiamat I was here. What was that about?"

Cain shrugged, "Its a saying the proeathans in Apollo have apparently. 'Tell Tiamat' is kinda like 'blow it out your ear'. It means fuck off."

"What?"

"Someone was talking to me, I told them to go tell Tiamat about Demeter."

Desmond stared at him then said, "You really are an asshole aren't you?"

Cain grinned, "Would you have me any other way?"

"Anyway," Desmond looked back at Mark, "I need to get to my clone. And he's with Tiamat?"

"Yes," Mars said. "No one gets close to Tiamat anymore. Apparently once they found out your clone wasn't effected by her they shoved him in there to care for her. He doesn't come out."

"So I need to go in."

"Yes."

"How hard is that going to be?"

"Security is tight in the halls and rooms around her. But once inside her psyonic boundary our tech doesn't work, video doesn't work at all honestly. They monitor her by infrared. To get you close to her and your clone we'd have to create a blackout across that entire sector of Apollo," Mars said.

"Huh, shouldn't be too hard then," Desmond said.

"Desmond, you don't understand. We're talking a huge section of Apollo that Apollo _himself_ personally oversees at all times as not only is it where they keep Tiamat, but its where the Adjatev leaders live," Mars said.

"No, it still shouldn't be too bad," Desmond said.

"Yeah? Then how do you think we'll do that?" Mars huffed.

Desmond removed one of his gloves, "My clone's genetically identical to me," Desmond said, examining his fingers. "But, he's also nothing like me," and he made the glyphs on his hand start to glow as well as the ones across his face and the rest of his body but they were hidden by his clothes. The lights in Mars' office dimmed and started to flicker. "I break technology," he said, "just show me what I need to touch, I'll bring the entire city down around its ears," he grinned, and it wasn't a nice grin. Mars looked _petrified_ of him. He made the glowing stop and the lights came back up, outside they could hear some proeathans calling to each other in confusion.

"What was that?" Mars asked, her hand in a trembling fist on the table.

"Me," Desmond said simply, "This is why your people were afraid of me. I'm the end of what you were, and the beginning of what's coming after. I've been here long enough, I need to know where the power station is to Apollo and where Tiamat and my clone are," he said very calmly, in control. He felt Cain watching him intently.

Mars took a deep, unsteady, breath. "Okay," she said. "I'll get you there. It'll take a day or two though. I don't know how you'll get into the power station though. Apollo keeps it locked down."

"You let us worry about that," Cain said.

Desmond looked at Cain, "You're coming?"

"Well it'd be irresponsible to let you go alone. My Abel would never forgive me."

"He already doesn't like you," Desmond said.

"Yes but I don't need to add fuel to his pitiful little fire now do I?" and Desmond had to admit Cain had a point.

Mars sighed a little, "Fine. I'll find the power station, just stay out of trouble."

"I have been so far," Desmond said.

"Amazingly," Cain said sarcastically.

"What are you going to do when you get to Tiamat?" Mars asked.

"I don't know," Desmond said, "if she's a problem, I'll kill her. Though she's an old lady, how much trouble could she be?"

"And what about your clone?"

"My clone ain't shit," Desmond said firmly. "He has my memories from a year ago. I'm different now. He won't be an issue."

"I hope so. Who knows what's happened to him being with Tiamat," Mars said.

"What does that mean?"

"Like I said," Cain said, "ancient Sumerians worshiped a goddess named Tiamat. Started out as a mother goddess, but the egos of men aren't the only reason she because a goddess of chaos." Power psychics can do all sorts of things.

"And you'd know?" Desmond demanded.

"I've seen you," he said plainly. "You do impossible things. Tiamat is old and powerful, you were born this way, but she has more years on her in learning about the proeathan's abilities than anyone."

"You almost sound like you respect her," Desmond said, narrowing his eyes.

"Who knows," Cain said slowly, "Maybe I wasn't the first. Maybe she's been asleep all this time," and that made Desmond shiver all over, goosebumps going to cover his entire body. That Cain, as ancient and terrible as he was, wasn't the _first_ immortal was a terrible thought. And a proeathan, an actual psychic who had years of training and not just something Desmond played pretend at. But she also might not have been immortal. Just a story the proeathans told. Either way it was scary.

"You just like scaring people don't you?" Desmond said.

"It has a certain allure to it," Cain admitted, "I've been a boogie man more than once. Primitives are so easy to scare after all."

"I'm not," Desmond said.

"Nope," Cain agreed. He looked back at Mars who seemed confused by their exchange. Clearly she didn't know about Cain's immortality. Desmond wondered who did. "You said it'd take a day or two to locate the power station?"

"Yes," she said. "Getting you into the main power core will be impossible. But the sub station that powers that sector of Apollo where Tiamat and your clone are located will be possible. Though difficult."

"Again, leave that to us," Cain said, brushing off her concern.

"Then that's all I have for now," she said.

"Okay," Cain said, and got to his feet with a grunt. "C'mon Desmond, lets let Mars work her magic."

"And what will we do?" Desmond asked, getting to his feet.

"How'd you like to learn about your enemy?"

"I mean, I'd rather not," Desmond said, "but I don't have a choice in this do I?"

Cain grinned, "No, not really," and he pulled Desmond's mask down and pushed him out the door where he couldn't talk or complain. Desmond just scowled at Cain instead and the bastard didn't even seem to care as he beckoned him towards the lift. He hoped if Tiamat _was_ immortal she wasn't as fucking annoying as all the other one's he'd met so far.

* * *

><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	30. Jimmy Crow

So I've got a poll at the bottom for you guys

* * *

><p>Desmond and Cain ended up near, by all things, a playground. It was the first time Desmond had ever seen proeathan children before. Like their parents they were all very easily distinguished from one another by their dress or hair. He looked at Cain accusingly as the immortal sat on a bench for sitters or parents. Desmond knew he had to sit too, so he did.<p>

The playground was indoor and the floor made of foamy mats and everything had rounded edges and padded flat sides. There were things to climb on and things to run through and two slides in the shape of animals Desmond didn't know but looked like elephants. There were block spinners and the center was a large screen laid into the floor for drawing on. There were at least a dozen children running around in the playground and Desmond was surprised how young they were. Not a one looked older than five.

"The thing about being the savior of the world," Cain said in Arabic, watching the children, "is that you have to realize that the world is a lot bigger than what's around you. And saving one set of people doesn't save them all," Cain looked at him. Desmond just cocked his head. "No one's listening," he said.

"Wouldn't it be weird to speaking like this?" Desmond asked quietly, his voice muffled further by his mask.

"Few people know what the Drell sounded like anymore. And I'm just confessing to a faceless. No one cares."

"Why are we here?"

Cain looked back at the children, "These children don't hate you, Pipek. They were born in this new world and are a part of it. When you kill their mothers and fathers and older siblings what happens to them?" Desmond didn't answer, though he had a feeling he wasn't supposed to. "Do you kill the orphans too? In centuries past conquering humans would kill all boys when they finished their plundering. Stave off the resistance for another forty years at least as they wiped out a generation of dissenters. Will you do that?"

"I'll do what I have to," Desmond said.

Cain looked at him sharply, "That wasn't the question. If you win, what happens to those who opposed you? Do you kill the children? Or do you risk the next generation hating you for destroying their lives? They'll grow up on their parents telling them stories of the monstrous man who killed their fathers or mothers, or aunts and uncles."

There was no answer. Either answer was a loose. Desmond was smart enough to know that. Cain accepted his silence as understanding. "Its important that you don't just rush into something," he said. "Or you create a lot more orphans. The current generation of proeathans have a shorter life span than the ones before. Cryostasis ruins the body. You kill it basically, but keep the brain and heart in as low power as it can go. But you're basically dead. Its tough to wake up from that because death is the natural state of all things. In a few decades all these proeathan you see here will be dead.

"So its important to plan, and plan each step you make precisely. Running into things head first is how you get everyone dead. How you get yourself dead," Cain said, glancing at him. "With me so far?" Desmond nodded. "Being the savior is a big deal. Because you can't just save some little group of people who you're invested in," Desmond gave him a stern look.

"The future the proeathans set out for you and why you were born was to deliver the world into their hands. In their eyes that would be saving it. But the thing about being the savior of the world is that once you've got that designation, you can't just shake it. It stays with you. Especially since somewhere, somehow, to _someone_ the world needs saving. So how do you save them all?"

"Can I?" Desmond asked in nearly a whisper.

"I don't know," he looked at Desmond. "Do you want to? Because you're savior of the world, and these people here? They're part of that world too. Do you save them too?"

"They've enslaved my species… _twice_," Desmond said.

"And you've enslaved each other thousands of times for a thousand reasons. Fathers sell their preteen daughters to men in their forties to be their wives and sex slaves. People work in factories day and night with only a few dollars for pay and sleep in the cellar aren't so uncommon. The African slave trade to the Americas. The Nordic slaves of northern Europe. Serfs to their lords. People who work five jobs just to barely scrape together a living and keep a roof over their heads. Immigrants who hold nations up on their backs and are told they're ruining a country when; without them, there wouldn't even be one," Cain didn't even sound riled up. He was perfectly calm and rational in his speaking and logic. "I wasn't around for a hundred years, but I know it still happened, in a hundred different ways in a hundred countries both still around and long since dead. You know how?" Desmond shook his head. "Because this has been happening since I was a boy," and Desmond got goosebumps. "Humans are slaves to themselves, and have been for thousands of years. Slaves to coin and government and society. If you want to hate the proeathans you'll have to come up with a better reason than 'they enslaved humans'."

Desmond just sat there. He didn't say anything and Cain asked nothing of him. He was thinking. They watched the children play, running and chasing each other, sometimes screaming, laughing and smiling, none of them had a care in the world. Watching them Desmond saw little difference between them and human children. They also didn't seem to care about their ethnic differences, they played with whoever they wanted. Race didn't matter to children. He thought of the kids back at Demeter, and the Seed Bank in Russia.

Cain was right about one thing. These were the people he needed to be worrying about saving. The adults didn't matter anymore. In a few decades the previous generation that remembered this would be gone. Humans that remembered the world before this shit were already a dying breed, and they'd never get any bigger than they were at that second. And these kids, human and proeathan, would have to figure it out. Atlantis would kill a lot on both sides. What was important was getting children from both sides together. If they could become friends that'd go a long way to mend the pain between their people.

"I can't save them all," Desmond said after several minutes of thinking. "And I don't want to. The old way needs to die. I don't want to save it."

"Then what will you save?"

Desmond's eyes tracked a proeathan girl chasing a boy. The girl wore all black, the boy in red and orange. She tackled him and yelled triumphantly, then she jumped up and the boy started to chase her. There were children climbing an animal Desmond didn't know, but it was a huge bird-like creature, helping each other get up on it and then they'd jump off the head down into a pile of foam blocks. Under a piece of equipment that looked like a log a pair of proeathan children from different nations sat huddled together looking at what looked like a tablet of some sort, playing with it, together.

"I'll save this," Desmond said and looked at Cain, "Savior of the world can't save the past."

"No, he can't," Cain said and by his tone Desmond knew he'd said what Cain had hoped he'd say. He'd taken in whatever lesson Cain had been giving out and and knew it. He wasn't a monster. He didn't want what was here to suffer for his own people. They were children. They had no idea. They didn't know any better.

"C'mon," Cain said and made to get up.

"Wait," Desmond said.

"Hmm?"

"Can we stay a bit longer?"

Cain rose his brows at him, "Yeah, we can," and Cain settled back down. "But we need to plan for Tiamat. And _really_ make a plan. Not just jump in feet first."

"In a bit," Desmond said. He knew why Lucy spent so much time in the nursery now. He'd never thought of children. Or if he had it had been in the same thought of how he'd never have any. He never stayed anywhere long enough to form those sorts of relationships with people. But he knew his life would probably end shortly. He honestly didn't know if he'd make it out of Atlantis alive. He'd never have kids. Neither would Lucy. But there was something about knowing the date of the end of your life that made you yearn anyway, even though you knew it'd never happen.

For a moment Desmond wanted more than anything to see the other side of Atlantis. Hadn't mattered before. Lucy didn't love him, and he was too emotionally crippled and compromised to want anyone else. Pipe dreams and all that. But right then he wanted to see through. Just to see what would happen when the the new humans from the seed banks finally grew up and had to deal with the proeathans who'd grown up after their second apocalypse.

The feeling passed and Desmond just felt empty on the inside. So very empty. It didn't matter. The woman he loved didn't love him anymore. He didn't want another. Like he said: pipe dreams.

"Lets go," Desmond said hollowly. Cain just got up and Desmond followed him.

* * *

><p>As said, this is the poll I'm taking for meeting Tiamat.<p>

Should Tiamat be immortal: Yes, or No?

I haven't fully decided myself. If she is or isn't isn't really important to Desmond's story. But this is me asking _you_. "Whatever you want bb!" is not an acceptable answer either. It is Yes, or No.

please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz


	31. The Wind Doesn't Care

Having a guide around Apollo was different than just wandering around it. What had confused Desmond Cain explained. Like who everyone was and what they were doing. Most of the proeathans who lived here were citizens, meaning they worked jobs that humans had before their fall. Things like: teachers, cooks, clothes designers, daycare attendants, doctors, hair dressers, and police. But they were all middle class duties. The ones doing the lower work like the cleaning and servicing and waste removal fell to the human slaves kept in Apollo. And Desmond noticed them more than anything.

When the day was done Cain returned with Desmond back to the halls of the faceless. Desmond hadn't said a lot all day, just followed Cain around, looking at everything there was to see.

He threw his mask off when he was inside. "Should I feel all this is pointless?" he asked, yanking off his outer robe as well.

"Depends, which part do you feel is pointless?"

"This fighting."

"Yes, you should because it is," Cain said, sitting on the chair. "War is a pointless endeavor created by a species who's become too comfortable. Before 'modern' civilization humans didn't go to war. They were too busy surviving. But once you can survive and you no longer need to hunt? Well, you must appease all those hunters somehow, and satisfy that greed that comes with complacence. The desire for more once you have something. More land, more money, more power. War was created by those with a lot, to get more."

"But fighting's a part of our culture," Desmond said, frowning.

Cain leaned back and looked at Desmond as he sat on his bed. "When I was a boy," Cain started, "I lived in a place where there was no war. No fighting. Yes we fought to defend ourselves sometimes from animals or maybe some bandits, but we didn't make war. I didn't know what a sword even _was_ until my father showed me one when I was much older."

"How long ago was that?"

"Hmmm, I don't remember really. Been such a long time. Before Jesus, before Rome," he seemed to be thinking. "I remember meeting Cleopatra if that helps? Beautiful woman," he sort of sighed, "shame the way she went out," he grimaced.

"You're impossible," was Desmond's exasperated reply.

"Takes one to know one," Cain said with a grin. "But back to the original point; yes, this war is pointless."

Desmond sighed and put his head in his hands. "And how am I supposed to stop it?"

"I don't know," Cain said, "you'll have to figure it out."

"Great," Desmond groaned.

"Just take it one step at a time. One thing wrong with how the Assassins teach, with how Abel teaches, is that they want you to do everything all at once. But you never end up getting anything done that was. Plan six steps ahead and anticipate every move. That doesn't work here. Not for saving an entire world and two races."

Desmond sighed and laid back, staring at the ceiling. "So I'm guessing step one would be getting to Tiamat, and how we're going to do that."

"Yes."

"Apollo won't be a problem."

"No?"

"No," Desmond said. "He can't disobey me. I could summon him right now and tell him I'm here and tell him I forbade him from making even the slightest hint that I'm here, and he couldn't do anything. He might want to, but he couldn't. The AI are mine."

"Then the Adjatev Chancellor and his cabinet will be the ones we need to worry about," Cain said. "They'll shut down the sector of Apollo the sub station controls."

"Even at low power the AI have control over their bases," Desmond said, "if need be I could just have Apollo open the doors."

"And let them know exactly where we are? They won't need an AI to see doors opening that shouldn't be opening."

"So then what?" Desmond asked.

Cain got up and when he put out his hand Desmond gave him his. Cain pushed the sleeve up, "Glow," he said. Desmond did so.

"You aren't going to threaten to break my arm again are you?" Desmond asked.

"I might," Cain said. "What's it feel like?"

"What? The glow?"

"Yes," Cain said.

"Well I mean… like nothing really," Desmond said awkwardly. "It isn't like when I use a _sikaz_ or Eagle Vision. I have to think about that. But this is like breathing."

"But even breathing feels like something," Cain tapped the underside of Desmond's arm. "Now answer the question correctly this time," and Desmond swallowed a little.

"You know how your tongue can't sit comfortably in your mouth?" Desmond asked, Cain made a 'hmmm' as his reply. "But it feels natural all the same. That's what it feels like."

"Just this one," Cain pressed his index finger to one of the glyphs. Desmond looked up at him then made it go dark. Like the last time it took him a few tries then the one Cain wanted glowed on its own.

"What?" Desmond asked when Cain made an interested noise.

"This is what you need to do when we get you to that sub station," Cain said. "I've seen you make entire sections of Demeter flicker from turning on and off. You having two states of being. On, and off, like a faucet, but its uncontrolled and wild. But this is control," Cain tapped the glowing mark. "You need to have that control when you shut down that sub station. Doing otherwise would lead you to overloading the entire system and you'd shut Apollo down completely."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?" Desmond asked.

"Maybe," Cain said. "But didn't we agree just this morning that you want to kill the old way? You need to be that first step. You can't suffocate what's to come by burning what's been. They'll choke on the smoke. If you really want to do what you say you do, you need to start here. Punish those who deserve it, not the innocent. Isn't that what you Assassins say?"

"Something like that," Desmond said.

"You need to _only_ shut down the area where the Chancellor and his cabinet stay. Or better yet, the halls around Tiamat. If you isolate the problem to as small an area as possible they won't react so harshly."

"They'll be more likely to send a repair man to go fix it than to lock the entire place down," Desmond said.

"Yes," Cain said.

"I think I can do that," he said slowly, he tugged his arm from Cain's hand and pulled the sleeve back down. "What if I mess up?"

"I always like to think that mistakes won't happen," Cain said.

"So don't plan for one?" Desmond asked incredulously.

"Having a backup plan means you're anticipating failure. But, this is you so I think I'll make an exception this once."

"You're so good with that whole confidence thing," Desmond said through clenched teeth.

"If you don't have confidence in yourself, how do you expect others to?" Cain asked him.

"You know if I wanted fortune cookie answers I'm pretty sure I could still find some in old chinese restaurants," Desmond said, giving him a look.

Cain chuckled, "So you fail. What is a failure here?"

"I get caught?"

"I won't let them take you again. They had two chances, and twice they let you get taken," Cain clearly wasn't impressed.

"Then I overload the system," Desmond said. "What if I mess up like that?"

"Then just restart the system," Cain said. "The bases were asleep for millennia before you woke them up. How did you do that?"

Desmond hesitated a moment, "My blood."

"Then you can restart the base from the ground up the same way," Cain said. "You're a faucet, just turn it on and off."

"Right," Desmond said.

"Don't worry, you won't mess up," Cain rested a hand on Desmond's shoulder.

"You say that now."

"You perform better under pressure. Most people crumble under it, few rise up to face it."

"Yeah, sure," Desmond huffed, brushing Cain's hand off his shoulder.

"I mean it," Cain said. Desmond looked up at him and then looked away again. Few times if ever did anyone actually ever just… trust him. And here Cain was doing just that. Not even Altair trusted Desmond. He always had to step in, to make sure Desmond didn't screw up. Or he just refused to back down, refused to let Desmond _do it_. No one ever just… let him do something.

"Right," Desmond still didn't look at him. "How long do you think it'll take Mars to find the sub station?"

"She already found it."

"What? Then why didn't we go already?"

"Because you had no _plan_," Cain said. "Like what you're going to do once you get in there, or how you're going to get your clone out." Desmond hunched a bit, "You were just going to try and wing it weren't you?"

"Maybe," he muttered. Cain flicked him on the head. Desmond glowered at him.

"Think about it tonight. This is important Desmond."

"I know that," Desmond growled.

"If you _know_ then why do I have to tell you?" Cain asked, Desmond had no answer for that. He just sulked a bit. "Savior of the world means he has a _plan_."

"Okay okay I get it fuck off," and then Cain gave him a light smack on the head.

"Don't swear," he said.

"Uhg! What are you? My dad?"

Cain gave him a hard look, "Not like you don't need one. Your birth one failed you and Altair's done a miserable job at it as well. No one holds you accountable for anything, least of all being a half way decent son or leader; so now I am." And Desmond looked down, he didn't know how to take that. "You're a kid and you need to grow up, but you won't so I'm making you. And grown ups know how to speak without sounding like dogs." Desmond glared at him. "Glare at me all you want. I'm not impressed in the slightest."

"I hate you," he said.

"No you don't. Now think about what you're going to do tomorrow. If its good we'll go through with it."

"And if it isn't?"

"Well you don't know where the sub station is and you can't get to Mars without me," Desmond glared at him more.

"You're a right prick," Desmond said.

"When I need to be," Cain said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right, good night," Desmond grumbled and glared after Cain as he walked out.

* * *

><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	32. One Breath

It took Desmond three days to come up with a plan. At least a plan Cain thought was good enough. Three days. He'd been gone two weeks by now, he could only imagine that the others were freaking out. But he knew Demeter would never let them out. He'd said the ark was in lockdown, no one in, no one out, without his permission. So they had no way to get to the surface. There was nothing they could do or come get him. Desmond would't be leaving without his clone and Cain wouldn't let him near Tiamat to get him without a plan. A full plan, including how to get his clone _out_ of Apollo.

Desmond was sitting on his bed, wearing the red of a Netall. A deeply red long sleeved turtle neck and pants. The sweatshirt had a hood attached to it as he'd requested, since he'd be going mask less tonight. The doors were locked and he had his eyes closed. But despite his eyes being shut he could see. The 'third eye' was a type of _sikaz_ used most prominently by the Ellderi people- the proeathan nation Desmond recognized for their black and white patterned clothes and intricate braids in their hair that dripped with glass beads, flowers and ribbons- and was quite literally the ability to see _through_ things.

Though 'through' was a subjective term and so was 'things'. What was a thing? A material object? What if you classified a thing as the connection between atoms? The energy of the universe was a thing. Then you could see through to things that were normally unseen, unknown. He could use the third eye he'd opened to see clear across Apollo and see the atomic structure of things as ghostly shadows as he was just seeing the energy and at an atomic level material things appeared as shadows at dusk. If he wanted he could then use another _sikaz_ to throw his mind and eyes towards a distant point and view it up close. Because the mind was like an engine, and learning _sikaz_ was, for Desmond's, tuning it. He knew that an Ellderin could use the third eye in more subtle ways than him, but for Desmond it served its purpose.

An actual practical use of a third eye was to diagnose bodily maladies. With it you could see tumors, body hemorrhaging and clots, all without ever making a cut. It was also see the lay lines of the proeathan or human body with the third eye. The weird psionic energy all living things resonated at. It was good to help with hunting, or playing hide and seek, or seeing through solid walls and could even penetrate lead which many wavelengths could not. Usually the third eye was focused outwards, to offer the proeathan a better, bigger, picture, of the world around them. Mostly it was used to promote a proeathan to an advantage, or to help others. Desmond had been told by the Ellderin sympathizer who'd taught him this that the third eye was known as the selfless _sikaz_, because it was rarely used on the self.

But Desmond was a selfish bastard sometimes. His third eye was focused on himself. With it he peeled back his skin and flesh and bones and organs till he was left with just the impression of the energy that swirled around and within him. The energy pressed outwards against his skin in the form of the glyphs, but they were like solar storms. Where the glyphs were formed was just the leading edge of the storm of psionic energy that flowed through Desmond's body like blood, swirling and twisting into knots and yarn balls shaped like his organs.

He'd looked at proeathans and humans alike in this third eye vision, to see if they looked like him. The Ellderin who'd taught him had been made of thick, orderly, ropes of energy, though he himself couldn't peel back that many layers to see the on that level. Cain had looked like a sun, painful to stare at for too long, and even now Desmond could see him and another out of the 'corner of his eye' as he looked at himself. Other proeathans had been more or less orderly or twisted, with children somehow seeming the brightest. Humans appeared as little quivering strands of barely held together light, like overladen spider webs after a long rain. Some had little knots of energy clinging to the end of fingertips or deep in their guts but they all looked like they could be blown over and ripped apart by a strong wind.

Desmond knew he was a sun like Cain and the other, who he could only imagine was Tiamat, because the Ellderin had seemed afraid. As with everything he was _Desmond_ was not natural. He was something different and new and it frightened the proeathans because they couldn't explain _why_ he was the way he was. It seemed no one had the answer for Desmond of just what he was and why he was or why he had a map carved into his flesh that no had known how to read at first.

Desmond was working on his control. Turning parts of him on and off and watching what it looked like from the inside out, since the third eye seemed to be projected in front him like someone sitting across from him, he could see exactly what was going on. When he made the glyphs glow the energy pushed outwards against the thin membrane of skin holding it all together, arching up away from the chaotic knots and twists like solar flares, pressing against his skin and then following the curve back down into the rest of the energy.

Honestly he had very little idea of just _what_ he was looking at. It had been a crash course to say the least and the proeathan who they'd gotten to show him how to do it had scoffed at him even being able to do it in the first place. Then Cain had rattled off all the _other_ things he could do: dark and night vision, dream sharing, prophecy, empathy, future sight (which was different than prophecy and was what the Ilythians used to see a few seconds into the absolute future of a few seconds where prophecy relied heavily on the potential future of days or months or even years in the future), tracking, thread seeing, centerfold sight, and something Cain called _lederu_ (whatever those last three even were, honestly Desmond wasn't even sure), and the proeathan had very nearly shit a brick. Needless to say he'd shown Desmond how to open his third eye after that since Desmond had wanted to see _exactly_ what was going on with his body without going into a machine of some sort.

With this sight he could see what was going on, and yeah he didn't quite know _what_ it was, this psionic energy or whatever, but he could understand the visual representation of it. It let him see and isolate exactly what it was doing inside him because now he could _see _what was going on in there. He was doing what Cain had told him to do; he was learning control. Sometimes the glyphs would come on at random, glow softly before dying back down. Desmond had been at this for two days, not leaving his room even to eat. And like a lot of things involving his physical body he was a natural at it. He knew that he'd only get better with time and that honestly he wasn't doing much, but for two days of self training he was doing fantastically.

He liked watching the energy arc up to his skin, stop as it met a wall, and then fall back down. There was something calming about watching it and about his ability to control his own body. Before Abstergo Desmond had had full control and say over his body and it obeyed his every demand. He could run forever and was strong and tall and could fight and was flexible and whatever he needed it to do it could do.

Even though he'd left the Farm he'd found a sort of meditative zen in working out, in running and in going through fighting forms, like it was what he was meant to do. Then when Abstergo had captured him he'd lost the right to his own body. He'd laid down in the Animus for days at a time, weeks even both under Abstergo, and under the Assassins. Racing towards that golden light they thought would be an end. An end to their petty fighting. An end to human autonomy. All it was was the end of Desmond's control over his own body. At least in Abstergo he'd done it out of self preservation. But with the Assassins? Out of guilt. Guilt that he'd left that life behind, and that if he didn't do _something_ the world could burn. He'd run from that guilt and those feelings for ten years before they'd caught up with him in Rome. Then he'd slept his way through Ezio's life and when he finally _did_ find that shiny mcguffin at the end of the road he'd really been robbed of any free will.

The deep sleep of his coma had been a terror to him he'd never really voiced to anyone about. He hadn't _wanted_ to go comatose. He'd wanted to wake up, make sure Lucy was okay, make sure Shaun and Rebecca were okay. Then he'd heard like a whisper in the wind that she was dead. And waking was no better. The Assassins were just as bad, just as corrupt.

When he'd met his ancestors he'd lived by their schedule. Wake with the sun, asleep no later than ten pm, breakfast and then training until you were sore then lunch. More training. At least the zen had come back during the training. But he'd never wanted it. He'd just wanted his life back. He'd just wanted the use of his body for personal use _back_.

Five years later and he was only starting to get his own body back under his control. No one commanded him. Not Altair, not Cain, not Lucy or Andrew or Shaun: no one. Just him.

The _sikaz_ went a long way in making him feel _in_ _control_. That he could manipulate his body and energy so freely was a big deal. No one could do this to him, just him. What Pluto had done to stabilize the placement was just making them orderly and linked to like proteins and acids on a cellular level or something. He really should have been paying closer attention when Pluto had explained that stuff. This was why he let guys like Hawk think about this sort of thing. He was useless at it. But oh you need someone to do something impossible? Desmond was that guy.

Desmond closed his third eye as the sun that was Cain came started to grow brighter and closer in his peripheral. But he kept his eyes closed until there was a knock on the door.

Desmond slid off the bed like he was a fluid and opened the door. The hall behind Cain was dark, it was late in Apollo. They were doing this at night and no one would see them do it. Desmond could turn off cameras that might see them and Cain had a very difficult to learn _sikaz_ that had apparently been common for the Drell and it was _literally_ a Jedi mind trick. "Ready to go?" Cain asked, he was dressed all in black like a Numm proeathan- the creepy ones that wore all black and had the bulging eyes.

"As I'll ever be," Desmond said pulling up his hood and leaving his room.

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><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	33. Tweddle Dee

I forgot to say this last chapter: Heron I'm glad you're feeling better! So glad you can type... yes, so wonderful...

chapter 34 coming up is entirely on you too. And _oh boy_. It's gonna be a 'fun' one. (yes you should be worried)

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><p>Being in Apollo at night was creepy. It was like how schools were creepy at night. Usually they were so full of noise and people so when they were empty and silent it felt like a crypt. Desmond walked a few steps behind Cain, their footsteps the only sound in large hall they were walking through. They saw no one, not even a slave.<p>

They'd left the halls of the faceless behind and had entered the area of the Adjatevs. Their living quarters were much grander and larger than the other nations. Though Desmond didn't see why they wouldn't be. The Adjatevs ruled, and they got the best of everything. It was in this area that the Adjatev Chancellor and their cabinet resided and ruled from.

"Its creepy," Desmond said, his voice sounding loud in the empty halls.

"Lifeless places tend to be," Cain said.

"You know where we're going?" he dropped down to nearly a whisper, feeling strange to be so loud in such quiet.

"Yes," Cain's volume didn't change at all. "There will be proeathans in this substation. Don't forget your plan."

"Its my plan, I don't think I can forget it," Desmond said quietly and rolled his eyes.

Cain stopped at an intersection, "There are cameras here now," he said.

"I got it," and Desmond opened his third eye a crack, enough to peel back some of the walls around him and show him the twisted, wiry, electricity that swarmed around the cameras like an angry scribble. They were on either side of the intersection, pointing down both hallways, but away from Cain and Desmond. Under normal sight they were invisible, like Eden Eyes but nothing was invisible for someone who could open their third eye.

"Or not," Desmond said, looking at the cameras. The ceilings were sixteen feet tall and Desmond couldn't jump that high.

"What?" Cain asked.

"They're on the ceiling," he frowned. "I thought you said cameras were attached to corners," he gave Cain a stern look.

"Contrary to popular belief I _do not_ know everything alright?" Cain huffed.

"So how do we reach the cameras? I can't jump and I need to touch something to lock it down."

"Really?"

Desmond scowled at him, "Yes really. This isn't just 'I don't know my own capabilities', its literally impossible."

Cain looked at him, "Maybe now it is. Who knows what you'll be able to do with more training. But yes, for now, it is impossible."

"So how do you expect me to touch it?"

"I could lift you up," Cain said, "Between the two of us we could reach it." Desmond stared at him. "What?"

"That's your solution? I stand on your shoulders?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"I expected you to have a more elegant idea on how to deal with it."

"I could throw you-

"No lets not," and that made Cain chuckle.

Cain leaned down a bit and offered Desmond a stirrup made of his interlocked hands, "C'mon, lets get this done with. You need to disable the left facing camera."

"Right," Desmond said and stepped up into Cain's hands and put his hand on Cain's shoulder as the immortal lifted him. Desmond reached but the ceiling was still out of reach by a foot or so and Desmond was holding onto Cain's head to not fall. "Higher," Desmond said, straining to reach.

"Do you trust me?"

"Not really."

"Desmond."

"About as far as I can throw you."

"How kind," he felt Cain's grip on his ankle change and gave Desmond those extra few inches he needed. He braced one hand on the ceiling to steady them and pressed his naked hand to the camera. Through his third eye he could see the electricity sputter and die as energy arced out from Desmond and fried the internal systems.

"Got it!" Desmond said softly.

With a grunt Cain lowered him before dropping him at about chest level. "You aren't nearly as light as you look."

"So I've been told," Desmond grumbled. He still hadn't really gotten over the fat comments Shaun had spit at him six years ago. He was kinda self conscious about his weight and looks. Though usually the good thoughts outweighed the bad.

Cain beckoned and Desmond followed him down the hall. There were a few more cameras, Desmond dealt with all of them, though a few he needed a boost up from Cain to get. They didn't meet anyone till they came to the final corner and there were a few proeathans standing outside it, talking and keeping guard; the substation.

"So you going to do your Jedi mind trick thing?" Desmond asked.

"My what trick?"

"Jedi," Desmond said, Cain kept giving him a blank, confused, look. "Right… you wouldn't know what Star Wars is," he said slowly.

"What?" Cain said.

"_Never mind_. You going to do the Drell _sikaz_ thing or what?"

"Yes," Cain said slowly. He obviously wanted to ask Desmond what Star Wars and Jedi were but refrained. Instead he just gave Desmond a look and walked around the corner and down the hall to the guards. They said something in some language Desmond didn't know and Cain said something. Desmond leaned around the corner to see what was going on, it wasn't much, just Cain standing in front of the guards, talking to them.

Then Cain turned and looked down the hall at Desmond, his eyes blue. After seeing Cain with yellow eyes for a few days, so soft and dull, Desmond had forgotten how terrifying Cain looked when in the sixth sense. For a second they looked like they were smoking. Cain motioned to him and Desmond came forward. "So they're good guys?" he asked cautiously, looking at the guards.

"In a sense," and Cain shepherded Desmond into the substation.

The substation was a room barely bigger than a closet, all the walls covered in lights and monitors and gauges and switches of some sort or another. Desmond had no idea where to start and he couldn't read any of the gauges. "So, now what?" his plan got them into the substation, but he'd never been in one and Cain accepted that he'd have to guide Desmond through this part of the plan.

"Most of these switches turn off larger sections of Apollo the sub station controls," Cain said. "We need to turn off only a few halls."

"Right," Desmond said, "Where do I start?"

"Mmm," Cain started looking around. "These here, they're power overrides," he pointed to a series of buttons. "They won't shut the system down, but it will allow you to short out the backup systems designed to keep the substation up."

"Okay," Desmond pressed each button with glowing fingertips. The buttons lit up as he did so and then faded, the substation went dark except for some blinking lights and then the place was bathed in yellow light. "Cain," he said warily, it reminded him of the Eden.

"Backup power for proeathans is yellow," Cain said reassuringly, "they see best in yellow light since it most accurately represents the sun."

"Okay," Desmond said even as he swallowed.

"This screen will let you control the substation," Cain said, prodding him a step over to a black screen. Desmond looked around for some sort of input mechanism like a keyboard or a mouse. There was none. He ended up just touching it. The screen shimmered on. Text crawled across the bottom in some proeathan language he didn't know.

"What's it say?"

"Nothing important," Cain said. "Focus," he said firmly.

Right, focus. Focus on what? He ended up closing his eyes and extended himself, opening his third eye (though doing so away from Cain to not be blinded) to see clearly. He saw the electrical signals coursing through the machine and where his fingers touched the screen it was like a plasma globe, strands of light and energy coiling around where Desmond touched.

He drew his finger across the screen, it left a trail of light on the glass surface and the screen itself lit up. He didn't know what he was looking at but it looked like a flow chart of some sort nodes connected to each other through colored lines. He closed his third eye somewhat the layers of the world folding back into place where they should have been giving him a more solid image of the world and not one made of strands and energy. Each of the nodes was labeled.

"Which one do I need?" Desmond asked Cain, closing his third eye when he looked at the immortal to not be blinded or stunned.

"This one," Cain pointed but didn't touch the screen. "There is no way to turn it off from the terminal. You need to find where the power is going to and turn it off manually."

"Great," Desmond said, now came the hard part: how to figure out just _where_ that node was connected to. "Will you step back? You're kinda hard to look at," Desmond said. Cain stepped back to lean against the door, "Thanks."

Desmond opened his third eye again but didn't know how much good it'd do. He had no idea how to find out what this went to or even how to go about it in the first place. He went through different layers of existence, peeling back reality like onion skin, and then putting it back over top. He sort of guessed he needed to find the _right_ amount of transparency, but didn't know how much. He struggled with it for several minutes and after that just wanted to slam his fist into something. He didn't though and instead just growled to himself at his inability.

"Don't get angry," Cain's voice drifted over to him from the door. "Just work through it. Its the dead of night, no one's coming yet."

Desmond took a deep breath to calm himself. It only sort of worked. He placed reality back where it belonged across his vision and looked at the terminal. Maybe he could do something with what he had. He tapped the screen to see what would happen. The node got a glowy outline but otherwise did nothing. He opened his third eye and peeled back layers of the substation till he was seeing the guts of the machines. He tapped at the node a few more times and saw a pulse of energy shoot off from the main board to somewhere else in the substation.

"I need your help," Desmond said and beckoned to Cain. "I need you to keep tapping the node so I can follow the track," he said before Cain could say otherwise. He kept his back to Cain as he stepped up to the terminal, to minimize the light radiation he could see even just a few layers deep.

"Alright," Cain said and he heard the soft tapping of Cain's finger on the screen. Desmond looked at the machinery and started to track the energy pulses with his eyes and this his head. It was slow going because the energy was traveling at the speed of light and nearly impossible to see. It made Desmond wonder if there was a _sikaz_ that could make the mind perceive a slowing of time. He could see how that could be helpful.

Desmond ended up following the track a few feet away and he closed his third eye to show no switches or buttons, only a gauge and a few level emitters. "This is it," he said. He put his hand on one of the level emitters and did what he'd been practicing. The substation lights started to freak out, the yellow light going on and off, sometimes flickering to red for an instant, or back to white light, then back to yellow. The lights in the machines flickered on and off, the screen went dark. Desmond focused on just the one part he wanted. Just the one piece that would make what he wanted to happen happen.

The lights turned back to yellow and stayed on, the machines resumed at their normal condition. The only lights in the substation that were off were the ones around Desmond's hand.

"The node's dark," Cain said and Desmond looked at the screen, the node he'd needed had turned a dark gray color. "That area has no power. The rest of the sub area might have experienced some power fluctuation but you did it," Cain smiled at him.

"I did," Desmond agreed.

"I knew you could. Now lets go find Tiamat," and Cain went to the door and opened it. He said something to the guards, his eyes going blue for a few moments, then he beckoned Desmond out.

"What is that anyway? Can you teach me to do that?" Desmond asked as the door closed behind them and he followed Cain down the hall to their next destination: Tiamat's quarters.

"My father called it _hodori_. It means force of will," Cain said, "that's all it is, projecting your will onto others, making them submissive."

"Sounds like an Apple," Desmond said.

"Many angelic vessels are based off the _sikaz_," Cain said. "Some never took off, but _hodori_ was too powerful for them to not try to transfer it into a vessel. Between it and the Eden humans have little hope of ever resisting."

"But they did," Desmond said.

"Yes," Cain said, "when their will for freedom became greater than the proeathan will to keep them enslaved."

"Can you teach me?"

Cain gave him a long look, thinking. "One day perhaps. The Drell did not always willingly share how to perform _hodori_. As you can imagine it can have disastrous outcomes if the wrong people knew how to use it."

"Someone taught you," Desmond pointed out.

"Yes, but I was grown when I learned."

"I'm grown," Desmond said.

Cain looked back at him with a slight grin, "Sure you are. Now its just down here," and he led Desmond around a corner to a hall where the lights were all out. "You'll have to go alone from here," Cain said. "I can't get near her," even as he spoke his nose started to drip blood.

"Why does she do that to you?"

"No idea," Cain said as he fished a handkerchief from his pocket and put it up to his nose to soak up the blood. "I'll be waiting here for you when you come out."

"I won't be back till I can bring my clone."

"I know," Cain said, "if you're gone too long I'll tell the Adjatevs where you are. If nothing else they'll get you out of there since I can't," and he could see it sort of hurt Cain's pride to admit that.

"You wouldn't let them take me?"

Cain put his hand on Desmond's shoulder, though it seemed silly with Cain holding a blood filled rag up to his nose. "Americans like to believe in the three strikes system," he said, "For me when you do something bad; you get one more chance. They had it, they failed. You're mine now, I won't let them take you again."

Desmond swallowed as he nodded and then stepped out from Cain's hand and headed down the unlit hall towards Tiamat.

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><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	34. Mother Hen

Tiamaaaaaat

is wonderful I love her

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><p>The further Desmond went down the hall, further away from the lit halls, the darker it became. Desmond had excellent night vision, but it didn't seem to help. He went into his dark vision and that helped a bit, but not as much as he thought it would. The darkness was like the bottom of the ocean here, and pressed in at him from all sides. But where it might terrifying others it didn't him. Desmond did not balk to the darkness, but pushed through it. He felt a warm, tingly, sensation on his skin the further he got, like he was suspended in water. It made him want to sit, and rest, to sleep and never wake up. Not in a suicidal way, but in a way that he felt so calm and safe he didn't want to move. His footsteps slowed, but he didn't stop moving.<p>

He was so distracted by the darkness that he wasn't paying attention and ran right into a wall. The illusion shattered and the warm feeling left him. He could see better now, and though a veil had been lifted. Desmond realized that the darkness wasn't that dark and when he turned around he could still see Cain not even a hundred feet away, though standing well in the light, watching, his hand up to his face to stem the blood. It had felt like he'd walked the length of a football field but it had barely been that at all and light leeched into the darkness from the hall beyond.

Tiamat had made him think it was darker and longer and warmer than it really had been.

He turned back around and saw that he was in front of a door. He tried it, locked. He forced it, his hand glowing cyan for a moment, and the knob twisted, the door opened inwards.

Desmond stepped into a lit room. Though the light didn't travel past the doorframe. "Close the door deary, you'll let in a draft," a voice said. Desmond closed the door slowly as he looked around.

The room was large, and like a library, but not a stuffy one. There were huge windows everywhere that let sunlight stream in through gossamer curtains, a gentle breeze came through some of them, disturbing the curtains slightly. Bookshelves lined the walls and on every available flat surface across seventeen tables were stacks and stacks of yet more books. He could smell coffee being brewed along with freshly baked cookies and bread. In front of him was a circular table which was set out with a tray laden with sweets and little finger sandwiches. There was also an elegant tea set on the table, as well as more books. There were two chairs sitting at the table, but they were both empty.

"Hello?" he asked, "Tiamat?"

"Just a moment deary," said the woman's voice and Desmond stayed where he was, but was ready. He knew this was an illusion, some projection into his mind. He hadn't realized a telepath would be quite this strong to even effect his sense of smell or his sense of touch. When he dream shared or REM interfaced it was sometimes a struggle even to just _hear_ what was going on, let alone smell or feel anything. He had a feeling if he ate one of those sweets on the tray he'd even taste it.

He didn't have to wait too long before a woman appeared, coming from behind a book shelf carrying at least six books. A proeathan woman with short black hair, strange in Apollo where all the women wore their hair long, and bright bright _bright_ golden eyes. She wore a human style sun dress and looked barely older than Desmond, though apparently looks could be deceiving for proeathans. His chest tightened. What if she _was_ immortal like the others?

She walked right up to the round table and set the books down, then she looked at him. "Ah now look at you," she smiled at him.

"Tiamat?" he asked curiously.

"Well who else would I be?" she asked sharply.

"Right, sorry," he raised his hands submissively. "I'm-

"I know who you are," she said matter of factly, "I know everything about you and why you're here and what you are."

"Uh… okay," Desmond said slowly. "Since you know what I'm here for what do you intent to do?"

She gave him a look and then sat at her table, "Sit," she ordered with the air and tone of someone who didn't even think you'd ever disobey her. Desmond wasn't about to start, so he sat on the other chair. He said nothing and she poured them both tea. "Have some tea deary," she said.

"Uh, no thanks. I'm not really a tea sort of guy."

"Oh right of course. I forget you like coffee. Desmond!" she called and Desmond jumped to his feet when his clone showed up. He knew it was his clone because they had a second, larger, scar on their mouth from where Altair had cut him. "Desmond sit," she scolded and Desmond sat again. She turned to his clone, "Desmond go get Desmond some coffee, I'm sure you know how he likes it."

D2 looked at Desmond with hard eyes, "Of course, Tiamat," he said and left again.

"And the two of you play nice. Not that you can hurt each other here anyway," she said and Desmond realized his full tea cup was gone.

"Tiamat," Desmond started, "if you know why I'm here then can we not waste time?"

"Waste time?" Tiamat asked him, "My dear _stadalla_," she said, "that's the last thing I was to do. But I know more than you. And I know you have questions."

"I have questions about everything," Desmond said, "but the main one is this: can I take my clone?"

"Maybe," Tiamat said pleasantly, "It depends on your behavior." Great, another old as balls proeathan who had problems with his behavior. "And I heard that," she said sternly. Desmond swallowed.

"You hear everything don't you?" Desmond asked.

"You have no idea," Desmond started when D2 appeared next to him and put down a cup of coffee in front of him. Then he was gone again.

"Holy crap do _not_ do that," Desmond said, he was going to have a panic attack if his clone did that again. He had a feeling D2 was doing it just to fuck with him. By Tiamat's grin while she sipped some tea he knew he was right. Man he was a prick even to himself, he needed to do something about that. "Tiamat-

"I know," she said, "you need my help."

"… Uh no, not really," he said.

"You just think you don't. Its quite all right, your clone didn't think he needed my help either. And yet here he is, much happier than he was serving _Chronos_," she said it with absolute distaste and even disgust. "Horrible little man that he is," she angrily drank from her teacup, for a second her eyes flashing blue. Desmond felt a lance of pain right between his eyes like a migraine. But it passed when her eyes became gold again.

"Alright, maybe I do," Desmond said, rubbing his temple. "What do you think I need your help with."

Tiamat looked right into his eyes and he got chills, "You need to forgive yourself," she said.

"What?"

"I can see into your soul. I've never seen someone so torn up and doing so well keeping it together from just falling out. But you need to let go, Desmond," she said.

"Right," Desmond scoffed.

"I tell you what," she leaned back in her chair, "you do something for me and I'll think about letting you take your clone," she said, pleased with herself.

"You'll _think_ about it?" Desmond clarified.

"As it stands you're never going to have him. He's mine now. But if you can do this thing and do it well I'll come up with something you can do for me to let you take him."

"Oh so I have to do _two_ things for you? How about I just take him and let that be that?"

"If you disagree I can always wake up the rat they keep in here with me," she said icily.

"The what?"

"A disgusting little man Chronos burdens me with. He's supposed to kill anyone who comes in here. Right now he's sleeping and so are you. I could just… wake him up if you're unhappy with my terms."

"Still I'm getting the shaft with this deal," Desmond grumbled.

"Then think of it as doing something for yourself," Tiamat said. "Your first step to… oh what he say? Being better?" Desmond's eyes widened a bit, Tiamat just looked smug. "This isn't a bad deal for you Desmond. I'm going to give you a second chance here. Now do you agree, or should I wake the rat?"

"What exactly do I have to do to get you to think about it?" Desmond asked carefully so he didn't rush into this without knowing the terms.

"Do it differently," Tiamat said. "Do we have a deal?" Desmond didn't know quite what she meant, but he liked the sound of whatever the rat was even less. He nodded slowly. "Good," and she smiled, her eyes going blue and the pain came back. This time it was more intense and like his head was splitting open. He hunched over his knees and fell off the chair, clutching his head like a stinging jellyfish was latched across the back. Stupidly enough it reminded him of when Hawk had tried to give him the neural implant. He blacked out after about five seconds.

When Desmond's eyes opened again he was in a place he never thought he'd see again. He sat up in his bed and looked around. He was in his bedroom in the house he'd grown up in at the Farm.

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><p>please consider supporting me by going to patreon dot com slash xazz<p> 


	35. Intermission: Dragons' Fire

So, I heard you guys like Cain.

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><p>Cain watched Desmond go into Tiamat's chambers, the door closing, and then he was alone. He felt not a little bit of worry. What if something happened to him in there? Could he handle it? He let the worry linger for a few moments so when he dispelled it there was no argument in his mind that Desmond was fine. Desmond <em>would<em> be fine. He stopped worrying and instead stepped back some out of Tiamat's range.

Honestly her range was much greater than he let on to Desmond. He had felt her shortly after they left the substation as a press on his mind like someone's thumbs on his temples. Bearable but annoying. The nose bleeds happened only when he was closer. He knew she was doing it to him specifically too. He walked out of nose bleeding range and leaned against the wall, moping up his face with his handkerchief. Then he waited.

Fifteen minutes passed before he started to grow anxious. He went back closer to Tiamat's door. It was still closed and when Cain called up his night vision he didn't seen any hint of it having been opened since he'd rounded the corner and put it out of his sight. Fuck. Now what was he supposed to do? He could go and summon the Adjatevs and tell them where Desmond was like he'd threatened the kid with. They'd rip the doors right off Tiamat's room and storm the place to get him. Cain didn't know if he wanted that though. Getting Desmond out the first time had been more difficult than he'd been made aware. There was now some poor human taking his place in that pod so the Adjatevs wouldn't notice. Better that way, Desmond would have been pissed if he knew Cain had done that.

Kid needed to learn that sacrifices were acceptable during war. He was learning, but it was slow going. Quicker than his _nem-ta_ but that guy was a lost cause at this rate. He needed to focus on the present and the future, not the past.

But Cain wasn't immune to the past and thinking about it made him so angry his vision literally whited out in rage for a moment. He took a deep breath and calmed down. He needed to focus on Desmond, his _nem-ta_ would wait. Cain had all the time in the world to deal with him. Desmond's time was limited.

While he'd been thinking another five minutes had passed and Cain realized his nose wasn't bleeding. Bitch. He wondered what she was so preoccupied that she'd ignore him like this. He didn't know if he was insulted that she was focused so fully on something else that she was ignoring him, or grateful that Desmond's head was so splintered and patched together that it took all of her concentration to deal with him. But dealing with him how? Cain needed to know. He started for the door.

When he made to cross into the darkened part of the hall it was like he hit a wall. His feet wouldn't move and his nose started to gush. From down the hall the door opened. A pretty, young, proeathan woman stepped out from the door. She walked down the hall towards Cain, her hips swaying widely as she did so and his eyes were drawn down despite himself. He felt no urges though. Seemed not even she could induce desire, good to know.

"Hello little dragon," Tiamat said once she was standing in front of him. Man, he hadn't heard hado that pretty and lovely since he'd visited Tjak's old abode deep in the mountains where he used to have lessons and he'd heard recordings of his father's people speaking and singing in hado.

"So does this make you the big dragon?" Cain asked in hado, still holding his handkerchief up to his nose. "And is this necessary?" he motioned to his face.

"Must keep a man like you in line somehow," Tiamat said shifting weight to one leg and popping her wide hips to one side.

Cain wasn't impressed with that, "You realize I'm asexual right?" he asked blandly, "Go be a temptress to someone else, not interested."

"Yes but its so fun," Tiamat said, her painted lips curled into a fox-like smirk.

"Where's Desmond?" Cain asked.

"The _stadalla_ is fine," she said. "He's sleeping."

"Tiamat-

"And doing some much needed soul searching," she said. Cain's hackles lowered. "I made him a deal, he accepted it. I'm a goddess but I'm not unfair," she said.

"You're as much a goddess as I am a god," Cain growled.

"And aren't you a god? Oh first immortal?" and Cain's eyes narrowed. "You can't hide anything from me. You have such a nice orderly mind, everything in line. I could read your books for decades and never reread an old one."

"Make the bleeding stop," Cain said darkly, "or I'll make you make it stop."

Tiamat laughed, "And what can _you_ do to _me_?" she teased him. "I could kill you where you stand. I could have killed you the moment you entered this place _half breed_," she said in a whisper soft hiss. "Sons of traitors deserve death before all."

"Then why haven't you?" Cain asked.

"Because you can do things for me," she said.

"Oh now you need my help," Cain laughed.

"Things you also want," Tiamat said and was suddenly at his side, standing several inches taller than him and leaned down to whisper into his ear. So she was just a mind projection. Good to know at least. "I could give you Chronos," she said seductively in his ear like a lover whispering sweet nothings after a night of love making. "I could give you the man who killed your people, who killed our entire _species_."

Cain breathed slowly. He was passed the need for wanting vengeance on the dead Drell he'd never met. Even though he'd seen them. Dead in their pods, perfectly preserved, like they were waiting to wake up from sleep. Men, women, children, and everything in between. The mighty Drell Empire led by an Empress, and always an Empress, that had held land all across modern western Asia and even had several cities in southern Asia had been snuffed out by the Adjatevs. For what? So the fighting between the city states would be over. So someone could _win_.

Long after his father and the rest of the remaining true Drell had died and Cain knew he had time unending he'd gone back to Shambhala and taken a decade to give all his lost people a proper, personal, burial. He'd come to terms with their deaths then, that he'd never have what they could have given him. He'd started it out of anger that his people had been robbed of him and then that they had been robbed of him in turn. He'd wanted to find these '_Adjatevs'_ his father had told him about and destroy them. At the end of the ten years he'd found his peace though.

Tiamat was dangling an old desire in front of him like his favorite dish. His father and the other last Drell had died hating the other proeathans. His father and the others had never found peace after their entire race and way of life had been obliterated. She wanted to _give_ him Chronos, the Adjatev Chancellor. He could cut the head off the snake and give his father's spirit some sense of satisfaction. You might have gotten us Chronos; but we got you too,

Cain turned and looked at her, "I don't want him," he said, she blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean you don't _want_ him. You just said you wanted to give your father's spirit some rest."

"My father is dead. He doesn't give a shit about Chronos anymore," Cain said. "Chronos dies and one of his cabinet rises to take his place. Cut off one head two heads take its place. You want to kill a hydra like the Adjatevs you can't just cut off the heads. You need to pierce the heart."

Tiamat scowled at him and for a second her venire flickered and she looked like a vulture or a dragon. Some monstrous dark thing from nightmares. "And how do you plan to do that without help?" she sneered.

"I'm not going to do anything," Cain said. "Desmond is," and understanding dawned on her face. A darkness that had been creeping in from the unlit hall dissipated like the clouds had moved out of the path of the sun.

Tiamat appraised him with cool eyes, "I approve," she said, "send a nightmare after them. How fitting after they submerged the world into darkness."

"What are you doing to him in there? I need him whole."

"He'll be fine. When you get him back he'll be better than he was."

"You say that but I don't trust you."

Tiamat smiled, "And you shouldn't," she agreed. "Its always foolish to trust a dragon. But I assure you, he's fine. At least if he can make it through the other side. Sometimes the seduction of forgetting is sweeter than the allure of life."

"Tiamat," he growled.

"Do you think he'll pull through?"

"What are you _doing to him_?" he hissed.

"Giving him a second chance," Tiamat said. "One he didn't get the first time. And forgive himself and maybe dispel those ideas that he's not good enough. Can't have a nightmare with self esteem issues now can we?" he asked him sweetly.

"No," Cain agreed. He'd been trying to build back up that self image in the few short weeks Desmond had been in Demeter. But at every turn he was undermined. Someone yanked it out from under him and insisted _no_Desmond you didn't know what you were doing. No you weren't good enough. No you weren't worthy. No you can't possibly do this without help from someone older than you. It was a struggle when he was fighting up hill against Altair who the kid adored and wouldn't see as wrong. Ezio and Micheal didn't help. He loved them and didn't want to push them away. But he wanted to be taken seriously by them and everyone else. Cain was the only one who took Desmond seriously. The others saw him as a child to be looked after and that undermined Desmond even more. At least progress was being mode, however slowly.

"How long should this take?" Cain asked.

"I don't know. However long it takes. Do you intend to stand here and wait for him till he's done?"

"If I have to," Cain said stoically.

"How very noble," Tiamat said, but she didn't leave. Instead she lingered near him, her golden eyes bright like a snake eyeing prey. "You want to know," she said, grinning gleefully.

"Doesn't matter," Cain said.

"Yes but that doesn't mean you don't want to know," she cooed and he felt her hand on his shoulders. "You don't know what I am, and that scares you," she whispered into his ear, her lips nearly against his skin. Cain did his best to not look affected. "You want to know if I'm like you."

Cain held silent for a minute before breaking, "Yes," because what if he could have _not_ been alone all those millennia before finding Altair? What if someone could have been there for _him_ when he was young and afraid of what had happened to him?

The pleasure she took in his disappointment when she said, "I'm not immortal," was palpable.

He brushed her off, "Than you're much less interesting now," and he didn't look at her like she wanted him to. She scowled at him and stepped around in front of him. "Just a telepath and that isn't nearly as interesting as an immortal."

"Before the fall the last telepath had been dead a thousand years," she said scornfully. "There isn't anything else like me, just like there isn't anything like you."

Cain looked at her, "But that will change for me," and for a second she looked stricken. "The divide will wear thin and one day I won't be the only halfling. The best you can hope for is that Desmond can learn telepathy." She bared her teeth at him and her image wavered again and he saw the monster of her mind beneath the surface. Now he saw why her own people had considered her so dangerous. But Cain wasn't afraid. What could she do? Kill him?

With that last thought Tiamat turned from him and walked back down the dark hall. "One more step and I'll make you brain dead," she threatened, "over and over again until I decide otherwise."

"I've died unending before," Cain said glibly. "You'll have to do more than that to impress me Tiamat."

She turned and glared at him as she opened her door, her eyes blue and his nose started to bleed again. His eyes also started to bleed. "Do not forget your place little dragon. This is my territory, not yours," she said softly.

Cain had his hand and handkerchief pressed up to his face to absorb all the blood he was now leaking. He could even taste it on his tongue though he was sure it was because the blood was dripping down the back of his nasal cavity than he was actually bleeding internally. She couldn't do that, not to his body. To his brain sure, but not his body. "Look after the kid, Tiamat. I will kill you if you mess him up. I don't let my investments just get away from me anymore." She sneered at him and went into her room and the entire hall became swallowed in darkness except for the hulking shape of some sort of monster. Cain couldn't make out exactly what it was, only that it was huge and he could feel its hot breath across his face. Such a drama queen.

Cain left her range where she could inflict bleeding on him and sat against the wall, pulling out another handkerchief to mop up his face. He knew he'd need it, because there had been no way Cain hadn't expected her to show herself and make him bleed heavily. Without a mirror he didn't know how much he got of the blood. But at the very least he wasn't covered in it now, wiping his eyes and nose until he couldn't get any more off. Then all he could do was wait and hope Desmond didn't take too long.


	36. Wishbone

So the first part of this chapter is entirely Heron's fault :D I hope you're prepared to cry

also longest chapter of 'canon' FM to date!

* * *

><p>Desmond sat there for several seconds, taking stock of what he was looking at. It didn't look like how he remembered exactly. An older memory tickled the back of his head. Outside he could hear someone driving out of the Farm, headed to god's knew where. It could have even been his father. He could smell the summer air coming in through his open window, thick with the smell of wildflowers and freshly mowed grass. Outside his room, from behind the partially closed door he could hear someone moving around and a hissing noise.<p>

What day was it? What _year_ was it?

Desmond lurched out of the bed and was so confused by his own body that he ended up stumbling and face planting into the wood floor so hard he saw stars. Movement outside the door stopped and for some reason unknown to Desmond he felt like he wanted to cry. He didn't know why. Falling had hurt really bad but he was never the type to cry really. Or he hadn't been? Tears still sprang to his eyes regardless of what he thought or wanted.

His bedroom door opened, "Desmond you okay?" and Desmond looked up from where he was still sprawled on the floor and now tears did start to flow. "Are you hurt?" they asked, coming into the bedroom.

"Duncan?" Desmond heard his voice, several pitches higher than he was used to, say.

"Did you hurt yourself when you fell?" Duncan asked, kneeling next to him and pulling him off the ground. Desmond could barely breathe. There was his brother. It was after he'd gotten back from the hospital after being nearly beat to death by two other boys his age. His arm had been broken in three places, he'd had four ribs broken, a bruised pelvis and jaw bone. And of course his eye. He'd lost vision in his left eye and the trauma from the beating had caused early onset cataracts in the eye so it was a milky brown color instead of its natural hazel.

"N-no," Desmond stammered and got to his knees, tears pouring down his face and making his breath hitch.

"You sure?" Duncan asked him gently. Desmond nodded, unable to speak, "Then why are you crying?" Desmond had no answer, he just cried harder and threw himself at Duncan, hugging him as tightly as he could manage. Now he knew why his body had felt so strange. It was smaller. He was in a child's body, clinging to his brother for all he was worth. Duncan hugged him back, trying to shush Desmond and figure out why he was crying loudly into Duncan's shoulder, getting the entire thing soaked in his tears. Desmond never wanted to let go. He'd let go once and had always regretted it.

"I missed you," Desmond said, voice shaking.

"Missed me?" Duncan asked, "you just took a nap," he said, still stroking Desmond's back gently.

"I…" Desmond felt tongue tied, "I had a dream you died," he said. Yeah, it was just a dream. Right? Right now it felt like a dream. All those awful things had happened to someone else. Some other Desmond. But not him.

"No," Duncan said, gently prying Desmond off him to look at him clearly, "that was just a dream Desmond," he said and stroked Desmond's head. "Now we have some homework before I go see Lisa okay?" and he stood up.

"Lisa?" Desmond asked, confused. He was so confused. He _swore_ that his dream had been real.

"Yeah, my therapist. I go and see her every Thursday. You sure you're okay? You did bump your head," and he held Desmond's head in both hands, worry written across his entire face. Tears welled up in Desmond's eyes again. "Des are you sure you're okay?" Duncan asked. Desmond just hugged him again and in fact wouldn't let Duncan move an inch without pulling Desmond off him. Duncan was tall for his age, he'd probably have been even taller than dream Desmond when he grew up. And like Duncan Desmond had late growth spurts, so he was still easy to pick up and take over to the bed.

Duncan sat with Desmond in his lap and just pet his hair while Desmond cried some more. His brother didn't know what was wrong, but whatever it was could obviously be cured by some love and attention.

The dream still haunted him and what he'd become. Dream Desmond. He'd been so scary. So angry and alone. His heart ached for Dream Desmond because he'd dreamed the entire thing up. Some strange adult version of himself. But he'd felt everything. He knew how much Dream Desmond hurt, all the time. How he couldn't just be happy. How he couldn't let anyone close, and when he did something always happened anyway. He was too young to know or feel these things, but he felt them. He felt them even now in every inch of his little body and they were compounded five fold when daddy came home from work and would ask him how his day was and never seemed to really care. Or he did but what he heard wasn't what he wanted to hear. Sometimes he'd sleep in mommy's room, other times he left after dinner and went to sleep somewhere else. Most of the time he slept somewhere else. He felt them even more when Duncan and daddy fought, stern, tight lipped conversations that were spoken through clenched teeth. Duncan locked himself in his room for the night after each one and came out perfectly pleasant in the morning. Sometimes daddy would yell at Desmond afterwards. When he did it was about how he _better_ not end up like his brother. Daddy never slept in mommy's room then and Desmond put himself to bed those nights.

Desmond ended up passing out as Duncan held him, worn out by so many more emotions than he was capable of handling swirling around inside him. The blanket tucked around him felt like Duncan's, warm, strong arms. When he woke up he was alone and managed to keep from crying again knowing Duncan was talking to his therapist. Duncan said it was important he went there, so he could get better even after he got out of the hospital.

Desmond ended up dragging his blanket out to the living room and crawling onto the couch. There was no TV. He didn't even know what a TV was. Except he did because Dream Desmond had loved TV. He didn't know that TVs were real though. He knew the house didn't have a TV, yet he still sort of expected there to be one in the living room. Because that was where you put TVs.

He curled up on the couch because he wanted to be there when Duncan got home so he could see him when he opened the door. And then he just sat, and waited. There were no books in the house that Desmond could read. They were all too hard to read and Duncan had to read them to him. And he didn't really have any toys. He had some blocks and things, but not like the toys Dream Desmond had seen in toy stores or in the big box stores.

Instead he thought about Dream Desmond. Or maybe Future Desmond? Dream Desmond had been able to see the future. What if _he_ could see the future too? What if he'd just seen his entire future? He pressed his blanket to his eyes as they started to water just thinking about it. He didn't want to end up like Dream Desmond. Dream Desmond was so tired and angry and lonely and scared. But he was also so nice and brave and strong. He ended up crying for Dream Desmond because all he wanted was a normal life. A normal life with a normal family and normal friends, and he'd never been able to. He wasn't _good_ enough for those sorts of things. He wasn't allowed to have things like that.

He perked up, sniffling, when the door opened. "Hey Desmond— are you crying again?" Duncan asked as he came inside. Desmond shook his head and wiped his eyes. Duncan came over to him and knelt. "What's the matter D?" he asked. "You've been so upset today since you took that nap."

"My dream-

Duncan frowned, "It was just a dream buddy," he said gently and stroked his hair. "Now c'mon, come help me make dinner and then we have homework," and Desmond let himself be pulled off the couch. Desmond held Duncan's hand as they went into the kitchen.

They washed their hands and Desmond helped Duncan make dinner. They had chicken nuggets, tator tots, and mac n' cheese. Desmond's favorites! Duncan was quiet while they had dinner, which Desmond didn't mind. They usually had quiet dinners.

"Is daddy not coming home tonight?" Desmond asked.

"No," Duncan said, "he's busy working."

"Oh, okay. Did you like seeing Ms. Lisa?"

"Yeah," Duncan said slowly, "made me realize some stuff," and Duncan had finished eating. Duncan always ate fast. He got up and Desmond quickly scarfed down the last of his tots so Duncan would take his plate into the kitchen.

Duncan put the dishes in the washer and they did their homework. Or rather, Desmond did his homework. Duncan just sat next to him and helped him do his math and helped him study his vocab for his test at the end of the week. Desmond thought it was sort of weird since Duncan always did his homework at the same time Desmond did.

Something felt weird. He didn't quite know what it was. Duncan seemed so… calm. Usually his brother had an edge. Though Desmond didn't know why he hadn't realized till now. It was like he'd never even noticed it but now he had some new insight on Duncan's behavior.

It came to him while he was brushing his teeth to get ready for bed after they did homework and Duncan went to go check on the horses in the stable out back. Dream Desmond had lived through this day already. He finished brushing and washed his mouth out and then stood at the back door waiting for Duncan to come back inside. He had to wait a few minutes though he knew he was supposed to go get in bed after brushing his teeth and Duncan read him a story. Then the door opened and Duncan came in.

"Desmond," Duncan said, though he didn't have the normal stern tone he took when Desmond stayed up past his bedtime, "why aren't you in bed?"

"What day is it?" Desmond asked.

"Desmond-

"What day is it!" Desmond said again.

Duncan sighed a little as he turned Desmond towards his room, "Its Thursday, you know that."

"The date. What's the date," Desmond pressed, dread welling up in his throat as they went into Desmond's room.

"August fifth," Duncan said and made a motion for Desmond to get into bed.

"Nineteen ninety-five?" he asked starting to get freaked out now. Dream Desmond's least favorite day of the year was August sixth. He always called out of work on those days, no matter what, and he even went to work on his birthdays. Before they'd all been lost he'd spend the entire day reading his journals out loud to his apartment like he was talking to someone. Like he was talking to his dead brother. He'd also fast for the day and make 'the last meal' as he called it. Chicken nugget, tator tots, and mac n' cheese. It never made Dream Desmond feel better exactly. But it always just _felt_ right and at was all he could think of doing since it wasn't like he could visit Dream Duncan's grave or send flowers.

"Its been nineteen ninety-five all year," Duncan said patiently. "Now c'mon, get into bed," and he pulled back Desmond's blankets.

Desmond instead hugged Duncan's leg, "Can I sleep with you tonight?" he asked.

"What? Desmond, c'mon now you're a big boy. You need to sleep in your own bed?"

"Please?" Desmond asked, his voice cracking.

"Desmond what is with your today?" Duncan asked and pulled Desmond off his leg gently.

The tears jumped to his eyes instantly, "I don't want you to go," he sobbed.

"What?" Duncan asked but his face looked a bit pale.

"Please don't kill yourself," and Duncan's face went dead white, both his good and bad eyes focused on Desmond's face. That made the tears spill over and Desmond sobbed loudly and fell onto his backside on the floor his grief of knowing what would have happened making it uncontrollable. Dream Desmond hadn't _just_ been Dream Desmond, he'd been Future Desmond too. Duncan _had_ been planning to kill himself tonight just like in his dream.

What if that meant all the rest of the dream real too? Getting kidnapped, the Animus and losing his mind, bringing about the end of the world. Becoming so empty and angry inside. The self hatred he'd felt _all the time_ for his existence. The guilt that was like noose around his neck.

Duncan knelt in front of him and grabbed his arms, "Who told you I was suicidal?" he asked, more like demanded. It was a secret he'd hidden from everyone along with his depression. Dream Desmond had known though, because he was older and could look back on these years and see how depressed and strained Duncan was. Duncan never wanted anyone to know how depressed he was, that he was suicidal. He tried so hard to just… be _normal_ and be good enough for their dad.

"No one," Desmond sniffed. "I just know."

"Desmond-

"Don't leave me alone," Desmond sobbed and hugged his brother. "I love you. Isn't that enough?" Duncan hugged Desmond tightly, so hard it hurt but Desmond barely noticed.

"Dad would take care of you," was Duncan's soft, weak, excuse in his ear.

"No!" Desmond cried. "No he wouldn't. The only one who takes care of me is you," he wiped his face as best he could with the back of his hand and arm. "Daddy doesn't care about me," and that made him cry harder. "Don't leave me with him. I need you. I _need_ you," and he held Duncan as tightly as he could.

"I love you," Desmond said again. "I love you so much. I love you," and then he just started stammering it over and over again between his hitching sobs. It took him a while to realize his brother was crying too, his face pressed into Desmond's little shoulder. Duncan never cried. He always put on a brave face, even when he'd been in the hospital he always smiled for Desmond and never said he was in pain. But now Duncan cried with Desmond.

"I love you too," Duncan said after what felt like a long time. "I love you so much, Desmond," he still held Desmond tightly, like letting go and he'd fall apart. "I'm not going to leave you," and he kissed Desmond's head, then he pulled back some and kissed Desmond's face, not minding how wet and gross it was. Duncan's face was just as tear soaked.

"Really?" Desmond asked, hiccuping and trying to get his breathing back under control.

"Really," Duncan said.

"I don't want to be alone," Desmond said and rubbed his nose with his arm to wipe at the mucus.

"Me either," Duncan said softly.

"So I can sleep with you tonight?"

"Yes," and Duncan hugged him again, holding him gently. "You can sleep with me whenever you want," and he kissed the side of Desmond's head, stroking his hair. "And sometimes I might need you to come sleep with me too so I can have good dreams. Okay?" and Desmond knew what he wasn't saying. Nights he felt suicidal he wanted Desmond with him to remind him why he needed to keep living.

"Yes," Desmond said, hugging him back.

"C'mon, lets go wash up a bit," and Duncan heaved himself to his feet. Desmond grabbed his hand and they walked to the bathroom and washed their faces. Duncan changed Desmond's pajamas and then to his surprise put on his shoes. Duncan also put on his shoes and Duncan grabbed his hand and they left the house.

"Where are we going?" Desmond asked.

"Just up the road," Duncan said in a soft voice. "Near where Ms. Lisa lives."

"Oh," Desmond said and they got into one of the cars next to the house. Daddy had taken the truck earlier apparently so they took the car. Duncan always drove himself to his therapist, which was up the road a ways to a little town in the middle of nowhere between the Farm and Grand Rapids called Hill City.

Desmond had never been outside of the Farm before. It was sort of exciting but also scary. They drove about twenty minutes in the dark, through a pine forest and steep hills down a well maintained dirt road before they met a paved road. Little houses dotted the side of the road and that late at night they were the only ones out, even though the radio only said it was seven thirty.

They drove into Hill City and Desmond pressed his face to the window as they drove down the main street that was lined with buildings that were all still lit up. Duncan parked at a grocery store and they got out, Duncan keeping a tight hold of Desmond's hand. Desmond thought he should be more amazed of a grocery store and all the stuff to see and all the food. But he wasn't surprised. Dream Desmond had been into hundreds of grocery stores. They went to the ice cream section and picked out a pint of ice cream. Well, two pints of ice cream. One for Desmond, and one for Duncan. Duncan paid with cash, and then went back to the car.

The drive home seemed to last forever and Desmond nodded off even on the short drive. He half woke when Duncan picked him up one armed and carried him to the house. He was more awake for Duncan to scoop three big spoons into a bowl for him.

"You're the best big brother," Desmond said as he was eating his ice cream. Duncan just smiled. "Though driving with one eye is dangerous," he scolded and that surprised Duncan so much that he laughed aloud.

"You're right. But I do it anyway," Duncan said. They finished their ice cream and brushed their teeth again. Desmond followed Duncan into his bedroom and Duncan changed into his sleeping clothes. Pajama pants and a cotton T-shirt.

"Duncan," Desmond said as they got into bed.

"Hmm?" Duncan asked.

"How come you have funny scars right here?" he asked and patted Duncan's stomach. He had lines of short scars in neat rows all the way up his stomach to his belly button and flanks and vanishing down below his pant line. "Was that from when you were in the hospital?"

"No," Duncan said, cuddling him. "Sometimes I get so sad I can't feel anything and it feels like I can't breathe or move. So I—

Desmond just gave him a confused look when Duncan's words failed him.

"I used to," Duncan said in a whisper. "I used to get so very very sad. I'd want just any release I could get. So I'd take one of dad's knives and just… make a little cut."

"Didn't that hurt?"

"Yes," Duncan said. "But I felt numb before that. It let me feel again. It was a release. It made me feel better."

"But you don't do it anymore?"

"No," Duncan said so softly Desmond could barely hear him. "I haven't since I went into the hospital."

"So you don't feel that way anymore?"

"Sometimes I do," Duncan said, holding him tighter. "But now I do other things than hurt myself to feel again."

"Good," Desmond said, "I'm glad you don't hurt yourself anymore," and he kissed Duncan on the cheek. Duncan just smiled at him and Desmond snuggled up against him. "Night D," he said.

"Night D," Duncan kissed his cheek again and Desmond closed his eyes.

Desmond hadn't slept that well in twenty years.

—

As soon as Desmond touched the Apple he felt a force on his body. A hand on his soul that froze him in place. He moved his eyes, trying to force his body to move. Images flashed through his mind, ancient things and old prophecies. A lot of it didn't make sense. Why? Why?

The force turned him. He could hear Juno talking to him, some more things about prophecy and destiny, but Desmond could barely hear her. It was like he was swimming through mud, his movements slow and forced. He started walking slowly back towards the others. He didn't really call them his friends. He didn't really _have_ friends though. They weren't moving, but rather seemed to be locked in space. Desmond could see their eyes moving.

He was forced forward, and would have fallen and stumbled if the firm hand didn't seem to be around his neck keeping him upright. He shambled on stiff legs closer to them, the guide pushing him towards Lucy first. His hand flexed against his will, his hidden blade came out and images and understanding washed over him.

He saw what would be. He knew that there were Assassins heading towards the temple now, but there were Templars too. Lucy had called them. She'd called them both. They'd come for the Apple, and for Desmond but the faces who shoved him into a van were equally unknown to Desmond. He didn't know if they were friend or foe and he realized: it didn't matter. The future was the same. One way or another he'd be a captive of one of the organizations. Flavor didn't matter, he'd be a prisoner. He saw the Abstergo Eye, what the Templars would do with it, why it'd be bad, and ultimately that it'd fail if Lucy didn't die.

She'd ruin everything. He could feel that in the back of his mind. She will _ruin_ everything. But there was something under that he couldn't pick apart. What would she ruin? A plan. What plan?

He was getting closer now. "No," he said softly, looking into Lucy's eyes. She was aware, staring at him, her eyes the only thing that could move, and she was afraid.

What was the point? What was the POINT!? It wasn't going to work! The Eye was a failure. The future painted to Desmond was the same if Lucy lived or died. He'd be strapped in an Animus 'for the good of the cause' by either side. He could feel a low current in his mind and he felt more than saw flashes of Rebecca and Shaun. He knew they were next.

His hand was drawn back and he stared in horror at Lucy. He couldn't stop. He didn't want to do this. He didn't need or want a pointless deaths on his hands! "No," he said again, amazed he could move his mouth. Tears collected at the edge's of Lucy's eyes, she knew he was about to hurt her. He didn't want this. He didn't want this. He didn't want this! HE DIDN'T WANT THIS!

"No!" he yelled as his hand was moved forward to deliver what would be a killing blow and under force of will changed the direction of the strike. He ended up sinking the blade deep into his own abdomen. His body was suddenly under his control again, his body going limp. The Apple fell from his weak fingers and rolled away. He stared at Lucy, breathing hard and she could move now.

"Desmond?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock and face white as milk.

Desmond tried to say something, but all that came up was blood. He knew the feeling of dying. He'd done it a thousand times already in the Animus. He wasn't afraid of death. Blood bubbled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin. "I told you I'd keep you safe," he managed to say and pulled the knife from his stomach. The strike had meant to kill Lucy, so it hadn't just been a stab in the chest, which he could have handle, but also a yank up on his arm, digging the blade through flesh. He'd given himself the wound instead and he could feel his lungs filling with blood.

He managed to stay standing a few seconds more before he collapsed.

"Desmond!" he heard them yell but Lucy was the one who was at his side in an instant.

"What happened?" Shaun yelled.

"Go get the others," Lucy ordered zipping up her jacket.

"But Lucy-

"Go get the others _now_!" she yelled, looking at the two of them, "They should be at the temple entrance. Run." Shaun and Rebecca looked overwhelmed even as Lucy was wriggling out of her shirt under her jacket. Of them only Lucy seemed to have her head together. The techs hesitated a moment before taking off, Rebecca sprinting, Shaun as fast as he could go.

Lucy leaned over him and pressed her shift, now balled up, to his abdomen. "Desmond, Desmond," she said and touched his face.

"I'm alive still," he said, staring up at her.

"What happened?" she asked in a whisper.

"Someone wanted me to hurt you," he said. "I couldn't. I wouldn't," he reached up and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek.

She held them there. "Stay with me," she said, "don't sleep no matter what."

Desmond smiled tiredly, "I won't," he promised. "So long as you stay with me too." Lucy put more pressure on the wound. When Desmond glanced down he saw that her shirt was already deep red from his blood. "Its pretty bad isn't it?"

"You'll be okay," she promised, still holding his hand to her face.

"Promise?"

"I promise. Who'll keep me safe if you're gone?" she asked.

"Fuck, you're right," Desmond said, licking his lips, he tasted a lot of blood. At least being horizontal seemed to be keeping the blood out of his mouth.

Several minutes passed and they stayed there on the ground. "Hey Lucy," he said.

"Yeah?" she asked, her hand still gently cupping his face, even though Desmond's hand had fallen away. He'd lost too much blood and was getting weaker. His body was starting to go into shock, and that wasn't the worst of it.

He smiled at the absolute absurdity of it all, that fate had twisted itself like this. He knew things he shouldn't, saw a future timeline disintegrate into sand right before his mind's eye as he said, "There's blood in my lungs," and when he breathed it was laborious.

"You're going to be all right," Lucy said fiercely.

But Desmond didn't feel afraid. He knew he'd done the right thing. He wouldn't have to suffer after this moment. "Its okay," he said.

"No it isn't," she snapped and checked behind her for Shaun and Rebecca.

"I don't think they'll be in time," Desmond said. "I guess I cut a bit too deep," and his breathing was wet and gross sounding.

"Don't talk like that. You're going to be all right," she said, leaning over him.

"No, I'm not. But its okay."

"Desmond-

"I've seen this before. I killed you, because I wasn't strong enough. This time… this time I was," he smiled and reached up, touching her face. "I saved you from a horrific, degrading, fate," and the memory of what the proeathans had done to recreate her made tears jump to his eyes. He'd have taken any feelings he had back if it meant she could just rest.

"Desmond stop talking."

He laughed a little, coughed, and turned his head away from her to spit out several mouthfuls of nearly black heart's blood. "I will in a minute," he said weakly, and yeah his body was going into shock and shutting down. He knew because he'd experienced it before in the Animus, dragging his damaged body through the streets, waiting to recover or to find a doctor for some 'medicine' branded health packs. "I just wanna tell you something first."

"What?" she asked, trembling, looking down at him.

"I think you're the most amazing girl I've ever known. And I know you're a Templar," she froze. "I need you to leave me here."

"No," she said.

"If you don't, my father will find you. He knows. You know he doesn't take well to failure," he said tiredly. "He'll want to kill you, especially since I'm about to die on your watch."

"You aren't going to die," she said thickly.

"Yeah I am," he licked his lips, it was all blood. "I know what it feels like to die. I've done it a hundred times already. Don't— don't make me changing destiny end up with you dead anyway," he tried to swallow, and barely could. "Please, just leave before they get here."

"Desmond-

"Lucy, this is the last thing you can do for me."

Her lips trembled, "I will," she said and then suddenly wiped her eyes. "I will," she said again.

"Good," Desmond sighed and relaxed, eyes closing a moment before he opened them again slowly. Lucy wasn't holding her shirt to his stomach anymore and Desmond was now laying in a pool of his own blood. Even if she did it wouldn't do much good, it was completely soaked in blood and totally useless. "Thank you," he said weakly.

"For what?" she asked, "All I've done is hurt you," and she looked an inch away from crying.

"For giving a shit about me, when no one else really ever did." She grabbed his face in both hands, both were stained with his blood in some way, and pressed her lips to Desmond's firmly. He didn't have the energy to kiss her back. Instead he just breathed out and didn't end up breathing back in. When Lucy felt him go lifelessly still she sat back up and stared at the podium where the Apple had been and let some tears flow down her cheeks.

She stubbornly scrubbed the tears away with her jacket sleeve and then got up, and did exactly what Desmond had begged her to do. She left him there for the Assassins to find.

The Assassins weren't the first ones to find Desmond though and instead three wraiths came out from the dim teal light to stand over Desmond's dead body. They had a hushed conversation between them and then one bent down and picked the Apple up from the ground where it had rolled out of Desmond's fingers. The chamber was filled with a golden light and the sound of singing.

—

When Desmond looked down the street he saw proeathans for the first time. Decked out in armor with guns and taking up the entire street.

"They came to pick me up," D2 said, looking back at the proeathans, "since I failed. And to pick him up too," he pointed at Desmond.

"Not on my watch," Altair said, slowly backing up from Desmond's clone.

"He could come with us," Desmond said, since his clone looked like he knew he was so fucked. He'd failed. He was going to get in so much trouble for this. Desmond sort of felt bad for him. He didn't know what it was like, but he could imagine what sort of punishment they'd wreck upon the poor guy for failing to integrate successfully. Even though he was a clone he had an attachment to his body in that he didn't like seeing things mutilate it.

"No way," Altair said. "He said he wanted to kill you several times."

"But also that the proeathans would be pissed if he did," Desmond reminded him.

"Oh I want to kill you," D2 said.

"Why? You'd get in trouble?"

"Core function: kill Desmond Miles. Don't ask me, I don't make the rules, I just follow them," D2 said.

"Shame, you were kinda awesome."

"Well, I _am_ you," D2 still hadn't moved from where he was sitting.

"Stop flirting with yourself, it's weird," Jake said.

"You're the one who thought we were going to make out," D2 said. "Someone's got a kink," he said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Jake said, but looked both mortified and horrified and embarrassed by that statement.

"Gross," Hawk informed them.

"Uh, guys, they're _getting closer_," Ezio said. At least _someone_ had the priority to keep watching the proeathans. They were a block away now. "I think now would be a good time to run."

"What he said," Hawk said.

"You guys go," Altair said, "I'll hold them."

"Altair-

"I'll _hold them_," he shot a look at Ezio who'd spoken.

"Just make sure you run away too," Ezio said.

"I got it. Now _go_. Make sure they don't get him," Altair ordered.

"Okay," and Ezio grabbed Desmond's arm. "C'mon Des."

Desmond stumbled a little as Ezio pulled him away, but then he dug in. Something didn't feel right. "Des-

"Wait," Desmond looked back at his clone, who was still just sitting there and Altair was standing in the middle of the street armed only with his hidden blade, ready to wreck some hell.

"Desmond we have to go," Ezio grabbed him to drag him away. It was like when Ezio tried to drag him away from Altair back in Dubai and he'd had to watch Altair die. This was different though. This time he wasn't worried about Altair, he was worried about himself.

He shook Ezio off and before Ezio could grab him again he went and grabbed his clone by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. "You're coming with us," he said and shoved D2 forward.

"Little Bird what are you doing?" Hawk demanded.

"I'm not going to let them do anything bad to him," Desmond said.

"You can't save everyone, Little Bird."

Desmond looked at the three of them. They'd known about the plantations, about the horrors in the world that had befallen their people. "Not with you three telling me what I can do I can't," Desmond said. "He's coming with us," and he had D2 by the back of the neck.

"Ffffffff—ine," Hawk swore. "With me, the rest of you, meet back at the parking garage as soon as you're able."

"Are you sure?" Jake asked.

"_No_," Hawk snapped, "But its how it is," he sent a hard look at Desmond. Ezio just nodded and bolted. "Lets go," he told Desmond as they heard the sounds of Altair fighting the proeathans.

Desmond grabbed D2 by the arm and dragged his clone along behind Hawk at a jog, D2 having to keep up or suffer face planting into the ground.

They followed Hawk down the street, around several corners and into an apartment building and up a flight of stairs. There the short Bostonian grabbed D2 and pushed him onto the floor and drew his cane sword, flicking it out to full length and putting it to D2's throat.

"What the _hell_ are you doing Little Bird?" Hawk demanded.

"I couldn't leave him," Desmond said.

"He wants to kill you," Hawk hissed.

Desmond looked down at D2, who was staring at Hawk's cane sword only a few centimeters from his throat and pinning him to the wall warily. "I couldn't," Desmond said. "He's me."

"He is _not_ you, he's a clone."

"I know that. But its like he's me, like if the proeathans actually got to me," and Hawk frowned deeply. "I'd hate myself for letting them get to me."

"Altair is going to be pissed."

"Altair can get the fuck over himself," Desmond said. "This is my apocalypse, not his. He's coming with us."

"He still wants to kill you."

"He won't," Desmond said.

"You're so sure?" Hawk asked.

When Desmond looked down at D2 they were looking back at him. "I'm like his big brother," he said and watched D2's eyes widen a bit. "He'd never hurt his big brother."

"Fuck you," D2 growled. "You're not my big brother."

"Not yet," Desmond said and looked back at Hawk. "I need you to make him believe that," he said.

Hawk was staring at him aghast, "You know what you're asking me, right?" Hawk asked.

"I do," Desmond said. "But to keep him safe I need to be safe too. He needs to think I'm not me."

"I don't even know if it'll work," Hawk said. "His memories are probably all just Animus functions. He's literally just a Bleed _of you_. I don't know it's possible."

"Try," Desmond said. "That's all I ask. Just try."

Hawk frowned and looked down at D2. "So what? You want to be Duncan now?"

Desmond shook his head, "No," Desmond looked back down at D2. "Our parents just had three sons, instead of two."

"Fuck… fine," and Hawk snapped his cane sword back into the retracted position and pulled his Apple from his coat. "One little brother, coming up," and the Apple started to glow gently, the light reflecting in D2's eyes and for a brief moment while the Apple sang Desmond swore he heard screaming.

—

It was Pluto, hovering just above the ground wearing flowing robes that make him appear etherial. The conversation they'd just had played back to Desmond in a loop and he felt like he was having a horrible sense of deja vu. For a moment he froze and couldn't move, staring at the hologram.

Pluto cocked his head to the side at Desmond. And then time seemed to rapidly speed up and he was caught back up in the moment. He shook his head a bit. What the fuck had that deja vu been? It was like he'd lived this before. Or was remembering a dream he'd had a long time ago. He was supposed to say something here.

"So, uh, what now? You said I'm something like... a prophesied hero... or something," Desmond said slowly, testing out the words. But it wasn't just 'or something'. It was more than that, he knew it was more than that but he just couldn't piece the two thoughts together. What he _knew_ teased him just outside of ability to remember.

"Indeed," Pluto said, "You are more like us then any human has ever been." It was like watching a movie he'd watched when he was young but didn't really remember. So familiar, but yet not.

"All right. So, what am I supposed to do? Save the world, right?" There was nearly a script in front of him. He knew he needed to say things, do things.

"And restore the planet to its original condition. Erase wars and end corruption and stop your kind from marching towards their own destruction. If you choose to do so."

He stopped fighting the deja vu took a deep breath, going with it, "Big job."

"And very important."

"So this is a... totally hypothetical question. But say that my brother _was_ here in my place. Any idea what he'd do?" But Desmond did know.

"We saw this as well. He was not strong enough to do what needed to be done. He left and let the world fall to ruin. Within a few decades at the least, few centuries at most, you people will have a drought of fresh water. The Water Wars will begin and entire parts of the world will cease to exist."

"Then... why would he leave? He wouldn't just have let that happen," Desmond insisted. It didn't sound like Duncan _at all_. He was a bleeding heart and didn't want anyone to get hurt. No… no that wasn't right. That was a shadow of a memory of a child. There was something else there, that he knew wasn't right. This wasn't right. That didn't sound like Duncan.

"You are not your brother, your brother is not you. He would have not done it. He prescribed to your organization's teachings, everyone has a choice. He believed people were better then what we said and he would have taken the risk of the world ripping itself apart over water, for there was a slim chance that it wouldn't. He would have bet on that slim chance."

That did and didn't sound like his brother. Memories were conflicting. Part of him said that yes, his brother was an idealist, a dreamer, but another part said that no he wasn't. The dreamer had had his wings cut off by garden shears. "Well, I'm not my brother," his mouth refused to obey him and just kept saying the lines. He needed to change it though. There was a change here, what Pluto was saying didn't mesh with the brother he remembered.

"We were counting on that," Pluto said pleasantly. A feeling of unease hit him, he'd missed it the first time. He'd done this before. He'd missed that tell the first time.

"I'm not really an optimist. In my life if there's a chance shit will go wrong, it will, and it'll do so sooner, rather then later."

"A wise stance," Pluto said. "So, what are you going to do?"

"I… I guess," Desmond said, breaking the script. It made his tongue feel light all the sudden.

"It starts here," Pluto said and motioned to the pillar, the pulsations were still increasing in speed and Desmond tried to get his heart rate to slow down, at least be normal. He was supposed to do this. This was his destiny. Right? He was prophesied, nothing could go wrong. It shouldn't. All he wanted to do was fix everything. But he couldn't remember what was broken. Something had changed and he couldn't remember what. Some important moment had been altered and this entire conversation felt wrong.

Desmond moved closer to the pillar, and while still perfectly smooth he saw a design had appeared on it lit in glue like some high tech tablet. The design was the outline of a handprint. Desmond's knew it was _his_ handprint just like it was _his_ heartbeat the tower and Apple were pulsing to the beat of.

"So what? I just put my hand on it?"

"Yes. That will start the process, once it is done, we'll take care of the rest," he smiled nicely at him.

"Then what?" another break in the script.

"So much," Pluto said, "There is so much to do. But we can't do any of it until _you_ start it."

"Then what?" Desmond pressed again, not moving, looking at Pluto.

"I told you-

"Tell me _more_," Desmond said, this was different. This was the change. He remembered this scene now in crisp clarity. He'd walked blindly into the trap.

"I will once you-

"Pluto," Desmond said, "I'm ordering you to tell me," and Pluto blinked in surprise.

"What makes you think you can order me?" Pluto asked.

Desmond looked down at himself, he'd taken off his jacket already, standing in his shirt, to ask what they were. He'd been so naive back then, so foolish. Jumping head first into a pitch black ocean. As he watched the glyphs started to spread down his arms, burning themselves into his skin. It was as close to the surface of the reality of his existence as he'd gotten so far. He could manipulate the memories to some degrees now. The insight unlocked the changed memories and he saw them pile up in his mind's eye.

Now he knew why Pluto's words about his brother seemed so weird, why several memories conflicted against each other. He saw himself die half the time in Juno instead of Lucy. He'd saw the changes in history just once stupid mistake he'd made growing up could have changed. Some of the times when he felt he was followed he stayed and lingered, to see who was following him, and it would be Altair or Ezio or Hawk. Some of those times he confronted them, some of them he ran. The times he confronted them his teenage years outside of the Farm didn't suck so much.

Sometimes Duncan lived, but every time their father died. Duncan as an adult wasn't like the scared, depressed, teenage boy Desmond remember. He was like Desmond; he was a weapon. But Desmond was a well crafted knife with a nearly invisibly sharp edge, the perfect offensive weapon in the right hands but useless without direction. Duncan was like a pair of gauntlets. Not for smashing or punching, but skilled enough to use dangerous weapons to protect themselves from the many sharp knives in the world. They were both uniquely fitted weapons, one to attack, the other defend. But God help you if you got between Duncan and what he was trying to protect.

Sometimes Duncan died and Desmond became him. Other times he became the son their father always wanted. The perfect Assassin. Sometimes still he was the one who put the knife through Andrew's neck.

Other memories involved the way his life had gone in reality. At Abstergo he'd done things differently, he hadn't played so stupid, admitted to what he was. He _hadn't_ gone with Lucy during the 'break out', knowing it would make things different. He'd been nearly self aware in that change. He'd _wanted_ to see what would happen if he refused to play the runaway. Sometimes in Abstergo he'd gone up behind Vidic and the old man had paid him no mind until Desmond had his hands around the old man's throat.

Some memories had involved Jacob or Lucy. But they felt so… fluffy. Sometimes he picked Jacob and nothing bad had happened to him. Sometimes he just left Jacob after his nap and never looked back. It was his fault after all, that Jake was like this. The ones about Lucy seemed dull compared to seeing her recently. Something was different about those memories than the reality, he couldn't quite figure it out. There wasn't a single retry he'd told her he loved her.

That was the point of all of this. To see all this shit and make it through to the other side. To face every bad decision he'd made or could have ever made and try it again. And when he made a different decision it opened so many more. Tiamat had said this would make him 'better', as she and Cain seemed so keen on calling it now.

Well, he was certainly better now.

"Because I'm in control now," Desmond said looking up at Pluto.

"Just touch the monitor," Pluto said.

Desmond looked at it, he could, if he wanted to. Was this the change he needed to make? He didn't remember retrying this one before, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. What was the other choice here? "No," he said.

"Fool," Pluto said and the room was bathed in a yellow light. "You will obey, human," he said, "Touch the monitor."

Desmond looked up at him and then stepped aside. "No," he said, grinning. "You can't make me. Your people tried before, but even a not-_stadalla_ was enough to take you out."

"Come back here," Pluto ordered, with every ounce of will he had. Desmond felt it as a twitch across his scalp.

"No," Desmond said. "Not this time, or any time. The proeathans can keep sleeping."

The fact that he knew what the proeathans were didn't seem to alter the memory of 'what if' too much. "_Obey_," Pluto said, "Or suffer the consequences."

"Consequences of what? You can't hurt me." He wasn't going to be controlled any more. Usually though when he made the 'correct' change he stopped living the groundhog day, moved to the next. This was the correct change. Wasn't it?

Nothing happened, Pluto said nothing, Desmond didn't move. Like they were two actors waiting for the next line. This… wasn't the right change. He looked down at his hands, the glyphs were gone. He wasn't the _stadalla_, not yet at any rate. He was just Desmond, powerless, who didn't command the AI of the proeathans. The AI who woke the proeathans and would stop at nothing to get them to wake.

That was the change.

Desmond went over to the pillar and pressed his hand to it. "What are you-" there was the prick but Desmond didn't pull his hand back as the machine took his blood. The machine drank and Desmond locked eyes with Pluto.

"You will not be waking the proeathans," Desmond said.

"Excuse me?" Pluto asked.

"You will _not_ be waking the proeathans. At least until I say."

"You get no say."

"Wrong. You're my AI now, I get all the say."

"You presumptuous-

"Silence," and Pluto's mouth closed right up and he looked confused. "I won't let this world end," he said. It was his biggest mistake, the largest source of his guilt. That he'd allowed the deaths of nearly six billion people. "Not this time." Pluto looked like he wanted to speak, but couldn't. "Bring my friends here, we're going to figure this out." Pluto did nothing. "I said do it!" Desmond snapped. Pluto scowled at him.

"Desmond?" he heard Ezio's voice from the tunnel.

"Not so hard when you know who's in charge huh?" Desmond said and Pluto just glared at him. "Big room," he called back to them and finally took his hand off the pillar. He smiled when the others entered the room to various noises of shock and awe. It'd be different this time. He wouldn't be alone this time.

* * *

><p>I mention a lot more scenarios than what I wrote as happeningDesmond reexperianced. As I said in the last chapter of Tincture I scrapped it because it didn't fit the theme I wanted in this chapter. Changes in memory I mention here will probably end up in Tincture _at some point_.

And the theme of this chapter is simple and why I scapped out Centuries in the first place. These are obvious 'mistakes' in Desmond's life that make him feel overwhelming guilt. Centuries isn't a 'guilt' as it never actually happened in his life, it is a way his life could have gone if he'd seen how much pain Duncan was in and how much Duncan needed him.


	37. Circular Breathing

When Desmond came to he found himself laid out on the floor, back to a wall. It felt like he was coming up for air after holding his breath for a long time. His eyelids fluttered open and he was greeted by darkness.

Slowly he pushed himself up and looked around. He realized he had barely made it inside the room before he'd… fallen asleep? His head felt fuzzy, like it was full of cotton and it was hard to think.

"What happened?" he asked himself softly and pushed himself to his feet, having to use the wall to support himself. He looked around again and was once more met with darkness. He went into Eagle Vision, his head pounding. It cleared some of the dark fog but not nearly enough. He shook himself a bit, standing on his own, and looked through his dark vision.

The shadows receded but the darkness lingered. He could see at least. The room he was in was barely bigger than the Faceless cell he'd been in. On opposite sides of the room were two cots. He recognized D2 in one of them, sleeping under some covers with his mouth open, nearly snoring. In the other cot was another man that Desmond took a step away from when he recognized who it was. They were lying on their side on top of the blanket, their eyes wide open, unmoving and staring at nothing. There was a strange scar in the middle of their forehead, that weirdly enough reminded Desmond of a stab wound. But none of that was what concerned Desmond the most.

What concerned Desmond the most was that the man was Daniel.

"The Rat," Tiamat's voice brushed against his mind and he twisted around to locate her. "A mindless little vermin." Desmond found Tiamat in the center of the little room. She was seated in an extravagantly plush chair, and she didn't look like how Desmond remembered her. She was older, in her sixties he had to guess, her hair was still mostly black and she had wrinkles etched into her face. And her eyes. They were the color of ice. But not like Cain's ice blue eyes. No, Tiamat's were white as though rage had bleached her iris of color, leaving only a slightly darkened ring of grey around her pupil.

"Tiamat," he said aloud. She put her finger to her lips. "Uh, like this?" he made the thought and it was a lot harder than he thought it should have been.

"It will suffice," she said with her mind. "You did well, _stadalla_. Better and faster than I expected. How do you feel, deary?"

Desmond was taken aback, "You don't know?"

"I know. But do _you_ know?"

Desmond thought on that. The most important thing he noticed was that the gaping hole in his chest he fed his guilt was remarkably smaller and didn't feel quite so heavy. He felt… _good_. Desmond couldn't remember the first time he'd felt good, like actually good and not just attempting to feel okay.

"I feel great," he said.

Tiamat smiled a bit. "Of course you do deary."

"So, I did the first part, have you thought about me taking my clone?"

"Yes," she said. "You may take him, because now I know you won't abuse him."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You hated yourself. He is you in a different body. You wouldn't have done it on purpose I'm sure, but you would have taken your own self hatred out on him. Now you won't. So you can take him. On the condition-

"_Another_ condition?" Desmond sighed.

"Yes," she said, "Unless you'd like to return to Cain empty handed?" Desmond said nothing, he just sort of pouted. "My condition is you free me."

Desmond blinked, "Free you?"

"Yes," she said.

"…_Now_?" he clarified.

"If you can. If not, I understand," she said. "But when you enter the Unnamed and hold its power in your hands, then you must free me."

Desmond hesitated, "How do you know what the Unnamed can do?"

She smiled again, "Because deary, its how I became a telepath."

"What?" he asked nervously.

"Before the fall of our kind the city of Atlantis existed, and at its heart was the Unnamed, a structure older than even us. Anyone who went into the Unnamed never came back out. We tried animals and humans and every master of _sikaz_ there was. Sometimes the animals returned, more often they did not.

"For thousands of years people tried to get into the Unnamed, to find its secrets. Our civilization grew more advanced. Eventually we created synthetics. First animals, than humans. We were surprised when the synthetic humans could enter the Unnamed and return alive, though close to death, as though they'd aged to the brink of their life spans. But they said there was nothing there, that the Unnamed was empty.

"Proeathans don't know the when to stop. Surely it was just because humans had just weak senses that they saw nothing. Just an empty landscape as far as the eye could see along with the bones and bodies of the proeathans and humans who'd come before them. If a synthetic animal and human could withstand the Unnamed—"

Desmond's eyes were huge, "Why couldn't a synthetic proeathan?" he asked.

Tiamat smirked, "Indeed. Why not one? So they tried," her smirk melted into a smile. "I have seen what lays inside the Unnamed. When I entered I barely knew a single _sikaz_, when I left it I was a functioning telepath and telekinetic. The only one of my kind in hundreds of years, and the only proeathan to ever do both.

"So I know what I mean when I say you will hold the power of the Unnamed."

But Desmond knew what they could mean for him, if he could just _bring_ Tiamat with him. "I need to speak with Cain," he said, "I'll see if we can just take you now."

She smiled and was quiet for a moment, "He's outside," she said.

Desmond turned and yanked the door open. Cain was standing at the edge of the darkness. "Desmond," he said and he honestly sounded relieved to see him.

Desmond went over to him, "I can take the clone. But is there any way you can think of that we can take her?"

Cain's eyes narrowed, "No," he said.

"I mean it Cain. She could help me-

"No," Cain said again.

"Because you can't, or you won't?"

"Both," Cain said. "Mars' people are expecting three people, not four. She can't come."

"But-

"What is the point of making a plan if you won't stick to it?" Cain asked. "You made a plan, follow the plan. Go get your clone, Tiamat is not coming."

Desmond blinked at Cain and knew he was right. There was no way they could bring her. "Right," he said and retreated back to Tiamat's cell. "Sorry I-

"I know," she said. "Take him, and remember our deal."

"I will," Desmond promised.

"Wake up Desmond," Tiamat said aloud and Desmond looked at his clone. D2's eyes opened. He buried his face in the thin pillow and Desmond heard a muffled 'no'. "Be mindful of the rat," Tiamat said in his mind again.

Desmond nodded and went over to D2's cot. When he went to grab his clone's arm he had to dodge a punch. D2 lurched out of his bed to tackle Desmond but Desmond was a better fighter. He had more practice. They scuffled on the floor for a minute before Desmond had D2 pinned and whining in pain from having his arm yanked up behind his back. Tiamat looked down at him with a look similar to sympathy.

"Don't fight me," Desmond said softly.

"Fuck off," D2 growled.

"I know you hate it here. We're getting you out of here."

"For a horrible reason I'm sure," D2 hissed when Desmond put more pressure on his arm.

"Keep resisting and I'll just break it," Desmond said.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me," Desmond said seriously, "I don't have time for games Des."

"Tiamat-" D2 said and looking up at her pleadingly. Desmond guessed they had a telepathic conversation. Then D2 hung his head and stopped trying to get away. "Fine," he whispered.

Desmond let him go slowly and got to his feet and hauled D2 to his feet as well. As he did he looked across the cell where Daniel was still lying, his eyes wide open like he'd been watching the entire thing, but not moving. "What about him?" he nodded at Daniel.

"The rat Chronos keeps here to watch me, make sure I don't do anything stupid," Tiamat said with her mind.

"Wouldn't this be considered stupid?" he asked, gabbing D2's arm roughly. D2 was looking at the floor.

"Chronos doesn't care about the failure they made," Desmond tried not to wince and glanced at D2 to see if Tiamat was broadcasting to him. She didn't seem to be. "Its if I get… overly ambitious and make someone come rescue me," she said. "Otherwise he doesn't care, so long as I stay here."

"Right," Desmond thought slowly.

"I would leave now, the noise you made might wake him."

"Okay," and he tugged on D2's arm, "lets go," he said quietly. D2 went along meekly. "Don't look so upset," he said once they were outside, the door between Tiamat and them.

D2 looked right at him, "She told me why you want me," and Desmond swallowed uncomfortably. "Fuck you."

"You got him," Cain said as Desmond pulled him into the light.

"Yeah, and he swears worse than me," Desmond said.

Cain looked between the both of them, "Cloning is so upsetting in sentients," he said. "I'm sorry," he told D2.

"Sure you are," D2 snapped.

Cain frowned at D2, "Lets go, our numia is waiting," and he turned around. Desmond pulled D2 along but he barely had to.

The way out of Apollo was much the same as getting to Tiamat. "Hey Cain," Desmond said as they neared the end of their journey through Apollo towards the hanger.

"Yes?"

"How long was I in there?"

Cain didn't answer right away, "About five hours," he said.

"What? Seriously?" Just five hours? It had felt like life times to Desmond.

"Yes— ah, here we are," and they arrived at the hanger. There were lines of numia in the hanger, waiting to go. It was mostly empty of people save for three proeathans standing by a numia about the size of a private jet near the end of a line. They wore red and orange; Mars' people. As they approached the proeathans turned and then started pointing behind the three of them urgently.

"Aw hell," Desmond said when he looked over his shoulder.

"Go," Cain said and pushed Desmond forward. Coming down the hall was Daniel and behind him were several decked out proeathans. Well, he guessed the Adjatevs knew he wasn't still in his pod now.

Desmond dragged D2 with him to the numia where the proeathans spoke to him rapidly but Desmond just blinked at them. He had _no_ idea what they were saying. Eventually he and D2 were just shoved up a boarding ramp. Desmond looked back at Cain to see what had happened.

He didn't know why he'd even felt the need to be worried. They were all already dispatched, though at this distance Desmond couldn't tell if they were dead or not. Cain was walking quickly towards the numia and apparently knew the language of the Netall. "You'd think he'd stay dead," he heard Cain mutter to himself as he went up to the cockpit. Desmond put his clone in a seat, strapping him in. D2 seemed to not give a fuck and just slouched like he was sixteen. "Desmond," Cain called from up front.

"Yeah, commin'," and he left D2 and went up to the cockpit.

"Sit. If Daniel's there they know we're trying to leave. They're going to want to close the hanger doors," Desmond sat and the numia hummed to life as Cain put his hands on the yoke. The numia lifted up off the ground gently and turned. As it did Desmond could see the proeathans Cain had handled. They were all down, but someone was getting up. Desmond paled a little. It was Daniel. He was standing, but his neck was the wrong way around on his body.

"Oh god," Desmond said, staring even as the man twisted his head right way around. "What'd they do to him?" he couldn't take his eyes away if he wanted to even as Daniel walked towards them, gun raised, shooting.

"Something unsightly," Cain said, pressing a few buttons and then the numia streaked forward, jolting Desmond back into his seat. As they flew out of the hanger Desmond perceived them attempting to close. But they'd started too late.

Cain took them up at nearly a ninety degree angle up above the clouds before leveling out. "So… we did it," Desmond said.

"Yeah," Cain said and reached over ruffling his hair, "Finally came up with a plan that worked."

"Oh fuck off," Desmond batted his hand away. Cain didn't smack him for that, the immortal just looked amused. "Won't they try and come after us?"

"They'll try," Cain agreed, "a few might. This is one of the fastest numias in Apollo and our friends in Apollo are currently making it _very_ difficult to figure out _just_ which one is us," and he nodded out the window. Desmond looked and his eyes widened in surprise. Three numia rose up on either side of him.

"Decoys," Desmond said.

"Mhm," Cain said.

"How hard was this to plan?" Desmond asked, since he hadn't been privy to this part of the plan of their escape.

"I didn't get you out until I knew we had an escape plan ready," Cain said. "The Adjatevs only have the man power in Apollo to chase some of these numia and I'm sure Chronos knows it. They'll have to pick the ones they think is us."

"Elegant," Desmond said.

"Sometimes my ideas are," Cain said.

"So we're headed for Demeter?" Cain nodded. Desmond looked back into the cabin of the numia. D2 was still slouched in his hair, looking at the wall. "He'll need to be swept for bugs."

"Both of you will," Cain said and Desmond scowled at him a bit but knew Cain was right. "We'll do that as soon as Altair's done yelling at us for skipping out on them."

"Uuhg, right," Desmond said and raced the right way around again. "Long time to think of an excuse though," he pointed out. Cain just chuckled.


	38. Of Course you Blame the Owl

Happy New Year everyone. I hope you got all the presents you were hoping for. Here's mine C: (kinda late I know)

* * *

><p>The lake opened like a great, gaping, mouth when Cain flew over it. Desmond had slept most of the flight but was awake now, watching everything.<p>

"So you come up with a good excuse to tell Altair?" Desmond asked, since he had been sleeping.

"I figured the truth would work just fine," Cain said.

"He won't like it."

"Altair doesn't like anything. Which is a shame," Cain frowned as they hovered over the mouth of Demeter.

"We going down in there?" Desmond asked when they didn't move.

"No," Cain said, "not yet. You both need to be swept for bugs and this numia needs to be scraped."

"So then what are we doing?"

"Some of the Ilythians are coming up. They'll determine if you're safe."

"I told Demeter not to let anyone out," Desmond bristled a little, pissed that Demeter would just ignore his orders in favor for Cain.

"I had your clone tell her," he said, "she didn't know the difference."

Desmond paused, "Oh," that made sense. "How'd you do that?" D2 didn't want _anything_ to do with them or what they wanted. Getting him our of Apollo was only the first hurtle. Putting him into the Animus would be the next.

"I am not without my secrets, kid," he smirked.

Desmond leaned back against the chair, "Cain," he said slowly, Cain 'hmmed', "was Altair always like this?"

Cain looked straight ahead, not looking at Desmond or at anything really, just staring at the horizon, "You mean paranoid? Suspicious? Controlling? Obsessive? No, he wasn't. He used to be young, inquisitive, brilliant, and wanted to be told what to do because the world was large and he was afraid and sought comfort in knowing someone else knew more than him. He was always suspicious of people and bad at making friend, but like his is now? Not even."

"What happened?" Desmond asked.

"I think I happened," Cain said with a touch of remorse. "I partially blame myself for him," he paused and Desmond didn't know if he would go on. "I encouraged him to use the Apple and I see now that that was a mistake. I thought he was enough proeathan to resist the Apple's hatred and control it like I could, so I encouraged its use. Instead I fear the Angel corrupted him, and I have only myself to blame."

"Seriously?"

"Up to a point. For a few decades at least. But the next centuries were all his doing. He resists change and resists letting anyone help him, no matter how often I tried."

"He always told us you were evil," Desmond said.

"There's no such thing as evil, Desmond," now Cain looked at him solemnly. "You know that right?"

"Well… I think Chronos is pretty fucking evil," Desmond said.

"Chronos has three children and a wife, five brothers, and parents who are still very much alive. He's the youngest of his siblings, they treat him like a baby and they love him very much. He sometimes walks the halls of Apollo and talks with the citizens and unlike other proeathans doesn't mistreat the human slaves. He hates them but understands their value to their way of life. What do you think now?"

Desmond swallowed, "I mean… I don't think sporadic acts of kindness negate monstrous behavior," he said. "I know humans are capable of it, and they're just people, but they're still _evil_ by their majority actions. I don't know why I should hold proeathans in a different regard."

Cain's lips curved into a slight smile, "You've gotten better. I'm proud of you," his voice surprisingly gentle and Desmond was so floored he couldn't say anything. "Also everything I just said about Chronos? I lied. He's a monster," Cain's tone became hard again. "And he's alone without a family or anyone. Which is why you're better than him— ah, the Ilythians are finally here," he looked forward and down. Desmond did as well and saw one of the elegant Ilythian numias rising up out of Demeter.

Cain pulled the numia back away from the lake as the numia rose. "Cain, this is Zorya, is the _stadalla_ with you?" Zorya's crisp voice came over the numia's speakers.

"I'm here," Desmond said.

"Good. Follow our numia," and the numia spun on its lateral axis and flew away from the lake.

"Who's with you?" Desmond asked.

"Medics and technicians. Altair also insisted on coming along," Zorya said.

"Great," Desmond groaned.

"Well, no time like the present to deal with his temper tantrum," Cain said in sarcastic mirth.

"He needs to get over himself."

"Indeed," Cain agreed.

"You'd think having a boyfriend would make him not be so touchy," Desmond grumbled. "I thought sex was supposed to mellow someone out," and next to him Cain laughed.

They flew for a while, flying south, until they left the plains and hit the forests of mid and southern Africa. There used to be huge plantations here full of orchards where fruit was hand picked by human hands. The forests had been clear cut by lumber milling machines in the first few years, and there were now huge scars in many parts of the world where the proeathans had just clear cut for proper farm land in the Old World for their plantations. Apparently the New World was mostly untouched because it was easier to transport goods and supplies across land than to cross the vast stretches of oceans to get to Apollo or the other bases. Desmond knew, from being told by Od, that two of the plantations in southern Africa had been liberated, and the proeathans were slow to retake this part of the world.

They landed in the shadow of trees that had survived the clear cutting. Cain opened the back and Desmond got out of his seat. D2 was still strapped in, his eyes were closed. Desmond went into the sixth sense and looked through the lens of the future. D2 wasn't wavering at all, he was just sitting there. He blinked and was back in his normal sight.

D2 opened his eyes and looked up at Desmond when he approached, "We there?" he asked.

"No. We need to find any bugs we both may have," Desmond said.

"Fantastic," D2 sneered.

Desmond unstrapped him and hauled him to his feet. D2 didn't resist, but he didn't make it easy for Desmond and didn't go along with him either. They left the numia and entered the warm summer air. Across from them the Ilythians were also getting off their numia. Desmond pulled D2 over to the Ilythians and heard Cain following behind until he stood in front of Zorya.

Zorya looked D2 over, "I see you found him. I'm impressed," she said.

"We took him with the blessing of a goddess," Cain said, coming up to stand behind Desmond.

"He was with Tiamat?" Zorya's eyes narrowed. "She let him _go_?"

"Yes," Desmond said, "Seemed she liked me. Now we're going to see if the two of us are clean and get back to Demeter. I burned days we didn't have time to spare in Apollo and Doomsday is still approaching."

Zorya looked Desmond over now and for a moment went into the sixth sense. "You appear different _stadalla_," she said.

"I'd hope so," Desmond said. "Now lets get this over with."

"Indeed. We will first inspect your clone and then yourself," and Desmond handed D2 over to Zorya who led him away to where some other Ilythians were putting together things.

When she left it was just Cain and Desmond. Then Cain nudged him and he looked at the numia in time to see Altair come out of it. Next to all the Ilythians and Desmond and Cain Altair seemed diminutive. At least for a moment before he appeared to grow an entire foot as he came over to Desmond.

"Hey," Desmond said when Altair was in front of him and he could tell without even going into the sixth sense that Altair was wavering between punching him and hugging him.

Instead he did nothing. "What were you thinking?" Altair growled.

"I was thinking that I needed to do something on my own," Desmond said, "and that taking anyone else would have just held me back."

"So you took _him_?" Altair accused, pointing at Cain.

Desmond looked at Cain and did feel a bit guilty. Altair had been there a lot longer than Cain, picking up the pieces of Desmond that he kept shedding and tried to put him back together with mixed results. "You couldn't have helped me in Apollo. Cain could have. He was the best choice," he tried to make it sound as rational as possible. "He can blend in, you can't, sorry its just the truth."

"And you just _left_ without telling anyone, without telling _me_," and Desmond winced at the betrayal in Altair's voice.

"You are not his keeper, Altair," Cain spoke up, seeing Desmond was starting to break. "You were his guide at one time-

"No one is talking to you Cain, so shut the fuck up," Altair snapped.

"Or what?" Cain asked.

"Cain, stop," Desmond put his hand on Cain's chest and pushed him away. "God you're just as bad as him, stop antagonizing him," he told Cain sternly. He turned back to Altair, "I'm not going to apologize for leaving without telling you, or for leaving. I am sorry I was gone for so long and made you worry so much. But I'm safe, and unhurt, and I know what I'm doing. So you're just going to have to accept it the way it is because its done now."

Altair scowled a moment before looking away, furious. Desmond just waited but he wasn't going to calm down any time soon.

"Desmond," Zorya called to him, "Its your turn."

"Coming," Desmond called back. "Both of your stay away from each other," he warned the two ancients and then went over to Zorya. "Is my clone clean?" he asked.

"He will be. He had three separate bugs. One in his arm, one his spine, and one in his brain. My men are working on disabling the one in the brain till we get back to Demeter and can remove it."

Desmond swallowed, "Okay, and me next?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Just stand still," she said and he nodded mutely.

An Ilythian came over to him with something that looked like a metal detector stick and started to wave it over his body. It didn't do anything and he didn't know if that was good or bad. The Ilythian frowned, shook the wand and smacked it. Desmond grinned, good to know that the tried and true method of hitting a device got it to work again. They waved it over Desmond again. Still no noise.

"_He's clean_," they said to Zorya in their language.

"_You're joking."_

_"No Sengar. He's clean."_

_"That's impossible. No way those at Apollo would take him without putting a tracker in him."_

_"I can't detect any. Shall I try again?"_

_"No,"_ Zorya turned away from Desmond, "Hod_ come here, you are needed_," and Desmond watched as a rather short Ilythian left those who were working on his clone and came over. Desmond blinked in surprise. He'd never seen a disabled proeathan before. Hod had one eye and was missing a hand. His eyes had been replaced by a strange, black, stone that had odd etchings in it. His hand was silvery white and reminded Desmond somewhat of Hawk's sword cone. Hod was also not an Ilythian. He was too pale, but Desmond didn't know what he was since he wore the same uniform attire as all the other Ilythians he'd ever seen.

"_What is it my Sengar?"_ Hod asked.

"Ull_ says that the _stadalla _is not bugged."_

_"But you don't trust Chronos to let him be clean?"_

_"I only trust Chronos as far as I can punt him. And I can't punt that bastard very far."_

_"Very well, lets see what it is_," and Hod turned to Desmond. Desmond nearly took a step back. Hod's one remaining eye turned blue, but then the black one erupted into graphic lines around a large yellow dot in the middle like a pupil. Desmond felt himself being scanned and wondered what he looked like.

"_Well_?" Zorya asked after several tense moments.

_"He is clean_," Hod agreed then he turned to Zorya, "_The _stadalla_ is more strange than I imagined,"_ he sounded a bit in awe.

"_Thank you Hod."_ Hod nodded to Zorya and left.

"Who was that?" Desmond asked once Hod had gone back over to the group working on D2.

"Our best doctor," Zorya said. "I'm sure you heard him say you're clean."

"Okay," Desmond said and didn't know if he believed that but there wasn't much he could do to say about it. "What was up with his eye?"

"He lost it in the War and they gave him a new one, a better one," Zorya said.

"He isn't Ilythian," Desmond said.

"He was an Adjatev, and they wanted him to experiment on humans. He said no and they banished him. We picked him up on our search for you. He's Ilythian now."

"Fair enough," Desmond said, "so other than waiting on my clone we're good to go?"

"Yes," Zorya said.

"Great. Cain said we'll leave his numia here," she nodded.

"_Stadalla_," she said when he made to go back to Cain and Altair, "I'm glad to see you return. Some of us thought we'd let you go to your doom."

"I don't die that easy," he smirked. She smiled a little but was ill fit on her face, like she didn't smile often. "I'm clean," Desmond announced to the two immortals.

"Good," Cain said, "one less thing to worry about. Right Altair?"

Altair just glared at Cain, "Desmond," he said instead, looking at him, "come with me a moment."

Desmond was leery, "You're not going to get mad are you?"

"No," Altair said and then stepped away from Cain, beckoning. Desmond glanced at Cain, who only shrugged, before following him. Altair led him up into the Ilythian numia. It was empty save for the pilots who were in the cockpit up front.

"So what was it?" Desmond asked.

Suddenly Altair's finger was in his face, "Don't you _ever_ pull a stupid stunt like that again. Do you know how worried you made us?" he demanded. Then all the wind rushed out of Desmond when Altair hugged him. Desmond hugged him back briefly before Altair pulled back and then gave him a little shake. "Or at least fucking tell me. I don't want to hear you're gone from Lucy again. Got it?"

Desmond couldn't help the smile he wore, "Yeah Altair, I got."


	39. Ophanim

Fyi: the end of the Apollo arc (and the intermission) means we're at _about_ the half way point! All that's left is the event at Toba, Atlantis, and at last; the Unnamed. And then we're done :D

Knowing me that'll take another 50 chapters and 8 months so don't think we'll be done any time quickly XD

* * *

><p>There was a group of people waiting for them in the bottom of Demeter when Desmond stepped out of the numia. He saw Ezio and Hawk, but also Jake, Clay, Rebecca, Shaun and to his surprise he also saw his dad. Od and Inti were also there, waiting. After a quick scan he also found Lucy. He smiled when he saw her but weirdly didn't feel that overly warm bubbly feeling he was used to.<p>

"Hey guys," Desmond called, "miss me?"

"Like a rash," Jake said, coming over to him and hugged him. "We were worried sick," and then Desmond was passed off to Ezio who cracked his back he hugged him so tightly.

"I'm sure Altair's already said this," Ezio said, "But don't ever-

"Do something that stupid again," Desmond sighed.

"_Exactly_," Ezio said sternly and then hugged him again. It was a long hug and from anyone but Ezio it would have been awkward, but not with Ezio. Being hugged by Ezio was like being hugged by a stuffed animal, warm and surprisingly squishy.

When Ezio finally let him go Hawk gave him a brief, light, hug. "You look different," Hawk said.

"I feel different," Desmond grinned.

"No, I mean… you look better," and Hawk smiled.

"I am," Desmond said, "I'm a lot better."

"Good," and Hawk's smile wasn't fake or forced. He knew how much Desmond hurt from what had happened five years ago, and to be _better_ than that. It was like a wish come true. He wasn't cured, but he wasn't a wreck. He'd already been in the process of helping himself through that, forgiving himself. But now it was like he'd been able to accelerate it and the guilt he felt didn't cripple him if he wasn't careful and it snuck up on him without warning.

Clay and Shaun didn't hug him, but they shook hands, grabbing Desmond high up on his forearm. Shaun gave him an additional fond pat on the back. Rebecca hugged him though and also scolded him by going, "Will you just _stop_ running off and freaking me out? I'm seriously going to go grey at this rate."

"You mean like Shaun?" Desmond smirked.

"Oy! Right here," Shaun snapped.

"Sorry. Can't help it," he smirked.

Then last was Lucy. She didn't _look_ mad about him kissing her before he left. She even hugged him, so it all was turning out pretty okay. When she let him go he didn't even see it coming.

Lucy nailed him, right on the jaw, with probably the most vicious right hook he'd ever experienced in his life. She nearly bowled him over because there was absolute _fury_ in her fist. She was _livid_ and when he looked at her he knew it. She pointed at him accusingly, "Do something like that again and its over," she said with more wrath, fire, and brimstone than even Altair. Lucy jabbed him in the chest with her finger and then stormed off.

"What the fuck… Lucy!" Jake called after her.

"What is wrong with her?" Rebecca asked.

"No its cool," Desmond said, tenderly touching his jaw. "I totally deserved that."

"What'd you do?" Jake asked.

"Uh… answer for another time! Od, great to see you," he moved on from the awkward question of him kissing Lucy.

"_We're glad you're home safe _stadalla_. Zorya informed us you met with Tiamat?" _Od said, shaking Desmond's hand firmly and holding it.

_"Yes_."

_"What deal did you make?"_ Od was nearly accusingly.

_"What makes you think I made any deal?"_

_"There's always a catch with her. Tiamat gives away nothing for free_," and he squeezed Desmond's hand nearly to the point of pain, his yellow eyes intense.

_"If I _did_ make a deal with Tiamat, that is between me and her. I really don't think its any of your business_ Ando," Desmond said flatly and then pulled his hand back.

"_It is proeathan business. I am your proeathan advisor, it is my business."_

_"Oh, but we both know she isn't _really_ a proeathan. At least not in the conventional sense,_" and Od flinched, so did Inti. They both had _known_ and hadn't told him. "_I trust you," _he told Od, _"But the _stadalla_ has secrets he keeps to himself._"

Od frowned but didn't disagree, _"Fine_," he grunted. "_Me and mine will be waiting if you need us_," and then he motioned to Inti and they both went over to the numia where the other Ilythians were disembarking.

"So," Desmond said, turning back to the humans, "What I miss while I was away?"

"Lot of nothing. We ran drills, trained, the rank and file didn't notice your absence," Ezio said.

"Good," Desmond nodded, that was how he wanted it. He didn't want to be visible. He wanted the others to continue to run the show as they always had for the most part. Now there was just a conductor at the head of the orchestra and not just everyone trying to play with each other, keep in time to the beat of a percussion who didn't even know the score. "And now we have him," he motioned to D2 who was standing between two big Ilythians looking pissed off. "Now we can find Eve."

"Go to hell," D2 said.

"Huh," Shaun said, "Reminds me of Lucy telling us about your time with Vidic."

"He's me five years ago, sans growing the fuck up," Desmond said. D2 just glared at him. "Is the Animus ready, Rebecca?" he asked.

She gnawed on her lower lip, "It is," she admitted after a moment, "we were trying to find Eve among the people in Demeter and drop them in."

"Any luck?"

"Few could locate her, so we know the time period but any of the people who we dropped in nearly instantly desynced."

"We'll work with that," Desmond said, "First he needs to get debugged."

"Debugged?" Shaun asked, "I thought they were doing that outside."

"He's got on in his brain," Desmond said, "They needed Demeter to get it out."

"Ah," Shaun nodded a bit.

"We'll take him now," Od said, coming back over. "The sooner we do the sooner we can know what that woman _really_ did to our world," he said distastefully.

"Yeah," Desmond agreed and looked at his clone and the two Ilythians at his side, "_Don't hesitate to smack him if he acts out. I know I would,"_ and that made the two guards smirk.

_"Fuck you_," D2 growled in Ilythian.

"_With how grumpy you are I'd want to too. Sorry you missed out my more recent memories of my sex life,"_ and he'd never seen someone so enflamed. Before D2 just looked like he hated him. Now D2 legitimately looked like he wanted to _murder_ him. Desmond tucked that reaction away for later. Od took D2 away and Rebecca followed, wanting to watch.

"So we're all set then?" Jake asked.

"Seems like," Desmond nodded.

"Where's Altair and Cain?" Ezio asked, looking around.

"Uhh," and everyone's head started to move around, looking for the two ancients. "I don't know, I swear they were _right_ behind me," Desmond said.

"Maybe we'll be lucky and they just killed each other so we can have a few hours of peace," Shaun muttered.

"Babies," Jake scoffed. "I'll go find Altair," he sighed and went towards the ship to track him down.

"So are we all good now?" Ezio asked Desmond.

"We should be. With my clone we'll have access to all my memories without putting me in danger."

"One thing," Hawk said.

"What?"

"You have a block, like Clay and Jake, which prevents the Bleed. Only people with a block can access memories that far back in their DNA without either being kicked out or if they're already Bled through a great deal," Hawk said.

"So then we'll just have Altair put a block in," Desmond said.

"But block what? How can you block something that's not overflowing?"

Desmond blinked slowly, "Well he has a simulated Bleed from my memories," he said.

"Simulated isn't the same as the real thing," Hawk reminded him.

"So are you saying that if we actually want to have any use out of that bastard we have to run him through the Animus enough till he starts Bleeding through, put a block on him and _then_ we can find Eve?" Shaun exclaimed.

"I believe so," Hawk said.

"_Great_," Shaun said sarcastically.

"That won't take long," Desmond said, "I started Bleeding in three days with only a few hours each day."

"Yes but Rebecca has been working on the Animus. The cut isn't that deep anymore. Its nearly completely safe," Shaun said, "to get him to a state that he'd Bleed substantially enough to need a block on him would take a long time."

"Like how long?"

"At the current state of the Animus? _Months_."

"Well we don't have months," Desmond said shortly. "As it is we barely have months to prepare for the invasion of Atlantis, let alone learn one thing from some old dead lady. There has to be a way to accelerate it."

Shaun frowned, "not without reinstalling old software, that might not even run on the new hardware."

"Well then try," Desmond said. "Or go to the edge of what he can handle. You said yourself the cut is deeper the further back in time you go."

"I mean… I guess we could. We'd be running blind," Shaun said uneasily.

"Just, get it done," Desmond said, "I don't really care how. Just get it done. We need to know what Eve knew, to see what she saw."

"We could break him Desmond-

"So?" Desmond just short of snapped. "That sure as shit didn't stop you before when it was me in that damn things and you broke _me_."

Shaun was a bit pale, "We didn't mean to," he insisted.

"Just do it Shaun, I don't want excuses. I want results. Or do you not want to save our planet because you have weird gentle feelings about my clone. Which, I might add, probably wants to kill you along with me since back then I was _pissed_ at you guys for what you did to me, accidentally or not. And unlike me he hasn't grown and forgiven you, he's still pissed off."

Shaun swallowed, "Right," and then he fled.

"Don't you think that was a bit harsh on him?" Ezio asked.

"I don't have time to be nice," Desmond said. "I did. I don't anymore."

Ezio gave him a concerned look, "So I know Altair's not the _best_ role model for leadership, and I'm not really either. But I found you get more things done with honey than vinegar."

Desmond looked at the ground, "I know. I just… I need it done. No excuses."

"Do you think your father felt this way when he told them to put you in the Animus?" Hawk asked.

Desmond turned a sharp glare on Hawk, "Do _not_ talk to me about Andrew," he hissed. "I am nothing like him. I will never be like him. Ever!"

"He expected it done too, no excuses," Hawk wasn't intimidated, Ezio just looked a little wary.

"That clone is not my son," Desmond said, "it shouldn't exist in the first place. I didn't ask for it to be made. Andrew… had an active part of my creation," he admitted spitefully. "But that's all he is to me. He isn't my father." Hawk looked like he wanted to say something else but didn't.

"So you're okay with doing these things to your clone?" Ezio asked. "Even though he's basically you?"

"They've already been done to me, Ezio," Desmond said. "As much as I like you and Altair, your lives were hell. You made me die hundreds, if not thousands of times. Whatever my clone has to be put through, whatever mediocre norm he has to live through to start the Bleeding process, pales to what I and everyone in that Animus project had to go through. So yes, I'm fine letting him go through it."

"Even if it might break him?"

"It broke me. I got fixed didn't I?" and Ezio had no answer for that. "I don't have time for hand holding. Not with knowing the proeathans will be more aggressive in a few months and I need to make sure we're _ready_ to go to Atlantis."

"I guess," Ezio sighed in submission.

"It needs to be done, and the entire reason I went to Apollo in the first place is because we all agreed it'd be stupid to put me back in the Animus. And I refused out right anyway."

"And what if he refuses?" Hawk asked. "You can't make someone use the Animus. They can just stand there and do nothing."

"If it comes to that I'll think of something. I do things when people push hard enough."

Ezio frowned, "All right," he said. "If you feel that's best."

"I do," Desmond said.

"Okay," he huffed a bit.

"Hey guys!" they all turned when Jake called them, he was in another door of the hanger, "I found them."

"They dead?" Hawk called back.

Jake laughed, "Yes!"

"Idiots," Desmond huffed.

"You'd think they'd learn by now," Ezio said.

"You kidding? This is Altair, like he's going to _learn_," Desmond said sarcastically.

"Well, we better go deal with that before one of the civilians find them. Wanna help?" Ezio asked Desmond.

"Sure," Desmond said and followed after Ezio to where Jake was standing over two dead bodies. Cain had a pierced jugular and Altair looked like he'd been strangled. All the blood on the ground belonged to Cain. Altair had stabbed Cain and with his last strength Cain had either broken his neck or suffocated Altair. Cain had fallen on top of Altair and bled all over the place.

Desmond frowned a little. He wished they didn't try and kill each other all the time. If they could _work_ together they'd be unbeatable. Instead they insisted on fighting against each other. For a moment Desmond remembered the fake memory of his own brother. What would they have been like had Duncan been alive? It sure as shit wouldn't be smooth sailing either. They were both too stubborn to work perfectly together, not as opposites as Cain and Altair of course but there'd be some conflict. Maybe that was just how it was with brothers. There was always conflict, even when they loved each other. He knew Cain loved Altair still but Altair hated Cain. Or appeared to. In Desmond's memory he'd loved Duncan, and Duncan had loved him but they still argued about what was right or wrong. Unlike these two though in Desmond's false memories their arguments never devolved to murder.

"Well this is a mess," Ezio said.

"Yeah," Jake sighed. "I'll get the big one, you carry the shrimp."

"I'm telling Altair you call him shrimp when he's Under," Desmond said as Jake rolled Cain off Altair. Cain was smiling. But not like Altair did when he killed. He looked amused, not happy. "Creeeeeeeppy," Desmond said.

"Oh you should see them when they spar," Jake said as he put his hands under Cain's pits. "Grab his legs," he added to Desmond who did. "They look like they _enjoy_ beating the shit out of each other."

"Because they do," Ezio said, picking Altair up from the pool of blood. "Which I don't mind at all. Means Altair's got a punching bag that isn't one of us."

"Amen to that!" Jake said. "Now lets get these two somewhere so they can Wake up in peace-

"And then eat their weight in food," Ezio sighed. "You'd think they'd be more aware of that since it isn't like we have unlimited food here."

"Ah they're fine," Jake said. "Ready Des?" Des nodded. "Lets go then," and the three of them carried the two ancients away from where they'd fallen. Demeter would self clean that spot once they'd left.


	40. Crashing

I'll just leave this here :3c

* * *

><p>Once Desmond had seen to his clone and been told by Demeter that such a procedure would take time he went to find something to do. Mainly he wanted human food. He wanted <em>meat<em>. Beans and tofu the proeathans ate had the protein he needed but god it was so fucking boring. He destroyed two burgers and it was _awesome_. Savior of the world, lover of cheese burgers. Seemed about right.

When he was done with that Desmond found a place he could be alone. He hadn't really had a lot of time to be alone in a while. While he'd been away he'd been alone constantly. It had given him a lot of time to think. Since he'd returned to Demeter it seemed like someone always needed him, or he always had to be doing something. Even in Apollo he was never just alone, someone was always around, or he was sleeping.

He found an empty garden and went in. This one was growing sixteen different types of tomatoes. The vines were heavy with the red vegetables and were ready to be picked soon. Humans in Demeter who weren't part of the army were responsible for harvesting of all the food the people needed and maintaining a general level of cleanliness in the ark. But for now the garden was empty, and Desmond was alone.

With a grunt he found somewhere to sit, under a lattice of grape tomatoes with fruit the size of his thumb. Like most of the gardens in Demeter there was a level of grass around the plants. He didn't understand the purpose, but he assumed there was one if Demeter had decided to put the grass everywhere. The grass was springy, sort of like moss in thickness, but not rough.

Desmond made himself comfortable and then closed his eyes, breathing on a specific rhythm. Slowly in, and slowly out. On his journey across the planet all by himself he'd taught himself to meditate. Mainly to clear his head of racing thoughts, stress, and anxiety, so he could sleep. Sadly it didn't help with the nightmares and lucid dreams he'd been having lately. The ones that had made him seek out the safety of Lucy's room to sleep. He winced thinking about that. He probably wasn't allowed to do that anymore. No, don't think about that. He was here to not worry about anything.

After a few breaths Desmond had effectively made his mind blank. He just focused on the sound of his breathing and his heart beat. He was alive now. Didn't know how long that would last, but he was alive now and he was doing his best. That was the important part.

As he meditated he felt like he was floating and that he floated up and up and up. He found himself then not in a garden in Demeter, but in the star field he sometimes dreamed about. Since he wasn't dreaming everything was clear. His AI were standing around, talking. Then one noticed him and they all turned and looked at him.

"What are you doing here?" Venus asked through Altair's mouth. "You're not sleeping you shouldn't be here."

"I don't know," Desmond said truthfully. This had never happened before, it was weird. But then he'd never meditated in Demeter before, only on the road, out in the wilderness. He looked around and saw all the stars. He realized, because he wasn't in the sleepy half understanding dream state, that the stars he was used to were fewer than the first time he'd seen them.

He remembered the first dream he'd remembered of this place. There had been countless nebula and stars creating unknown constellations across the sky. But now there weren't as many stars. In fact, most of the sky and even under his feet was filled with black space. With the clear understanding of being here while awake Desmond realized what he hadn't before. These weren't stars. They were people. Humans. It reminded him of that X-men movie with the machine that let Professor X see everyone in the world. Each star was a person here.

There had been about seven billion a few years ago.

Now there were only about a million.

It made the sky very dark indeed. "You shouldn't be here," Pluto said.

"Probably," Desmond said. "Wherever here is."

"Go back." Morpheus said. "Open your eyes."

Desmond's eyes opened. He was once more in the tomato garden. "Demeter," he said.

"Yes, Desmond?"

"Was I someplace I shouldn't have been?"

"Yes, Desmond," she said again.

"My bad. I was just trying to get some quiet."

"I know. Cain and Altair are awake. Cain is looking for you. Shall I send him to you or say you aren't to be disturbed?"

Desmond sighed, "How much quiet did I get Demeter?"

"About an hour," she said.

"All right," with a grunt he pulled himself to his feet, using the lattice to help him. "I'll meet with him," and he headed for the door to Demeter saying she'd send Cain in the correct direction.

Desmond liked this garden though. There was something weirdly peaceful about being surrounded by so many red spheres that hung so thick on their vines they drooped. So he stayed near the entrance but still actually in the garden. Cain came after a few minutes of waiting.

"Ah, there you are," he said as a way of greeting.

"What is it?" Desmond asked.

"I was just checking in," Cain said nicely. "Jake told me you helped him carry me somewhere to Wake peacefully."

"Yeah," Desmond shrugged.

"Don't take this a weird way," Cain started. "What did I look like?"

"You looked happy you fucking weirdo," and that made Cain laugh. He didn't scold Desmond for the curse either. At least the old bastard knew when situations called for a good swear.

"Ah, yes," Cain said. "I always enjoy putting Altair in his place whenever possible."

"Couldn't even wait to get out of the hanger though?" Desmond rose his brow at Cain.

"If you must know Altair started it," Cain said. Even coming from the mouth of an ancient like Cain still sounded like a school kid's whining.

"Sure he did."

"I just finished it."

"You know that isn't nearly as cool sounding as a lot of people think it is," Desmond said, sucking his teeth a bit.

"Desmond," Demeter chimed in, "I should inform you that Altair is _also_ looking for you."

"For what?" Desmond asked, giving Cain a look.

"He wishes to discuss what happened at Apollo," Demeter said and Desmond barely held back a wince. "Shall I send him here?"

Desmond huffed and looked at Cain who just rose his brows at Desmond. "Yeah, sure, please Demeter," Desmond said. "You should probably get. I really don't want to deal with your corpses again."

"I will be on my behavior," Cain smirked and Desmond cursed to himself. Of course Cain would want to stay. "Besides, you were in a pod for ten days, and things happened. I'm sure he'll want to know."

"Yeah," Desmond agreed but wasn't happy about it. "Cain," he said after they were silent for a moment. "I only knew Altair when he was mortal, and then the past two years or so," he didn't mention when he'd been a little boy and Altair had been at the Farm. He didn't remember that time.

"Yes?"

"Has he always been such a control freak?"

That amused Cain greatly, "No. He used to be quite nice, when we were close. Then he left and started to fear everything."

"Fear? You're kidding?"

"No. Altair is afraid. Of many things, though the exact things I'm not exactly sure. He's old enough to want to be alone, but not old enough to have accepted the fact that he will be alone. He's a very complicated man."

"Pfft, you're telling me. But really, control freak?"

"He thinks if he can control everything he'll have nothing to be afraid of. He wants to know everything, so he can have a plan. Sadly, most of his plans are stupid. He's honestly a very poor leader. He'd rather be told what to do."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all. He was raised a soldier. You ever notice how all his plans always fuck up? You most of all are on the receiving end of Altair's failed plans or lack of thought in making them."

Desmond frowned at that. "But he tries," Desmond said.

"He does," Cain agreed. "But he's still blinded by his own ego, and fear. He can't see what he's doing half the time. I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Desmond was confused.

"It just… it could have been different if Altair hadn't been so set in casting me in the role of the villain."

The door hissed open, they both looked. Altair came in with a serious cast to his face and while he didn't look angry he was intense and his brow was a bit furrowed. Desmond hunched a bit. He might have gotten his clone and returned safely but he'd just left without telling Altair, without a single word and he'd been gone nearly three weeks. Altair would want to know everything that had happened. Cain's fake betrayal would be just the start of Altair's anger during this telling.

"Don't slouch," Cain said, reaching around and pressing his hand to Desmond's spine. "You did the right thing."

"Yeah but-

"You were right," Cain told him firmly, cutting him off. "Don't let him let you think your decisions are wrong when he's been making the wrong ones for centuries," and Cain's eyes narrowed. Altair was coming over to them now.

Despite Cain's reassurances, Desmond swallowed.

Then Altair was in front of them. "You got a lot of explaining to do kid," and it made him slouch again.

"Uh," he said lamely. Man where did he even begin? At the beginning, maybe. It was just a lot, and Altair wouldn't like a lot of it. He probably also still wanted some sort of apology for just flaking off.

"He owes you no explanation," Cain said. "Of his motives or what we were up to Apollo."

"Amazingly enough Cain, this isn't about _you_," Altair snapped at him.

"Oh, we're going to be juvenile now?" Cain asked and physically got between Desmond and Altair. "How about that it isn't about _you_, Altair," Cain's voice was cool and oily.

"Its never been about me, its always been about him," Altair said. Cain laughed. "Don't laugh at me."

"Ha Ha Ha Ha," Cain said mirthlessly into Altair's face. "The fact that you believe that makes me worry about how _stupid_ you really are." Altair threw a punch, Cain dodged and struck him. He didn't even punch Altair, he just back handed him so hard Desmond was sure Umar would have felt it. It reminded Desmond of Al Mualim, so long ago, striking Altair and stripping him of rank. "You need to learn some respect," Cain said angrily. Desmond had never seen Cain angry before. It wasn't like Altair's, or Desmond's. It was a subtle thing like a shadow or a trick of the light. "Or maybe search that pit of despair you call your soul and look at what you're made of."

"I know what I'm made of," Altair growled back.

"Oh, what is it then? Rot? Self loathing? Guilt?" Cain challenged. Desmond felt himself being pushed out of the conversation. He realized then that Cain hadn't come here for Desmond. He'd come here because he knew Altair would come. Desmond wondered if they were finishing the conversation that had ended up with both of them going Under.

"Shut up."

"Or _what_?" Cain demanded. "Going to put me Under? Or maybe you'll lock me in that fucking box again!" Cain raised his voice a bit but when Cain was always so normally mild mannered it was like he was yelling.

"Not that you didn't deserve it-

"If anyone deserved that prison, Altair: it was you," and Altair stared at Cain looking momentarily lost. "You did this."

"No you did," Altair snapped, on the offensive again. "You turned into a monster, Cain."

"Then what are you?" Cain's voice was still raised, and Altair's volume was going up too. "If I'm such a monster than what does that make you oh great flying eagle of Masyaf?" he said meanly. "If I am such a monster who killed a few whores, what are you who bathes in blood and then tries to call himself a saint?"

"I am not a saint," Altair said, "but I don't kill for pleasure like you."

Cain's grin was mad and wild, Desmond tried to slink away from them a bit. If they were going to fight he didn't want to be here to see it. This was an argument they should be having in private, and especially not in front of Desmond. Cain noticed him moving and turned to look at him, Desmond froze. "Stay," Cain said with such authority Desmond couldn't move.

"No Desmond, you can leave if you want," Altair said.

"If he wants?" Cain said mockingly, back to Altair. "Since when have you ever cared what he wants?"

"That's all I care about!" Altair's volume went up louder than Cain's. "I have waited centuries for him!"

"You have _wasted_ centuries!" Cain yelled back now and Desmond really couldn't move. He was like a deer caught in high beams. He couldn't move and he couldn't look away. All he could do was watch as two trains collided. "And then you just _left_ him when he needed you."

"I watched over him. He was safe," Altair was yelling back now, a tiny ball of rage all directed at Cain like a canon ball.

"You let his brother _die_," and Desmond felt that like a blow to the chest. Altair stared back at Cain, stunned for a moment, as affected as Desmond had been.

"I didn't come in time," Altair said, his voice weak for a moment. "Hawk saw it… I wasn't quick enough," his hurt was genuine, but so was his next anger. "I did not want Duncan to die!"

"Then you shouldn't have left them there," Cain yelled. "Wait eight hundred years and then leave them to the wolves. Yes, you must love them very much to let some nothing, worthless, entity, like Andrew keep them."

"You don't know anything!" Altair yelled back. "I did what I thought was right."

"When will you get through your thick dumb skull that everything you thought was right, was wrong? You ruined the entire world, Altair! You ruined the boy you waited eight hundred years for with your fear! You ruined Ezio and Micheal with your selfishness! You ruined _us_! You left me!" Cain was now just screaming at Altair. "You left me after everything I did for you! WHY!?"

Altair just stared up at Cain, having lost his voice. Desmond had never seen Altair appear so small. Even though he was short he usually appeared so tall, so grand, seven feet at least. Now he wasn't. Cain was a huge summer thunder head that cracked with lightning, whipped rain and wind and Altair was a flimsy umbrella before him.

"I did everything for you," Cain wasn't done. "I took you under my wing. I treated you like my equal when no one had been that in centuries. I made you my brother. I _loved_ you. You were what I'd been waiting for nearly three thousand years for. I gave you the world! And what did you do with it?" Desmond had never seen anyone so angry. So absolutely enraged and hurt as Cain. Altair felt it too. "You gave it back! What is _wrong_ with you Altair?"

If Desmond didn't know any better he swore Cain was about to start crying. But he was too angry for tears. Desmond could hear it in his voice though. A grief he'd never settled because he didn't know _where_ he'd gone so wrong. "What is wrong with you, Abel?" and Cain's volume dropped dramatically.

Altair just stared back, saying nothing, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"No excuses for once?" Cain asked, his volume normal now, but after the screaming it sounded like a whisper. "Or is it like everything else? And you just don't know what it is that's so broken," and Desmond wanted to look away. He felt like he was intruding on this moment, on seeing such strong men being so vulnerable and exposed. But Desmond couldn't move even if he wanted, couldn't look anywhere but Altair and Cain.

Altair just watched Cain's face, but said nothing. Cain just looked hurt. "If you have nothing to say, get out. Before I put you Under again," Cain growled, at the end of what he could handle.

"I'm sorry," Altair said, so softly Desmond barely heard it.

"What?" Cain asked, he thought he'd imagined that as much as Desmond. Desmond had heard Altair apologize once ever. It had been to Malik all those years ago in Jerusalem about how he'd let Kadar die, and took Malik's arm. To hear Altair apologize and _mean it_ wasn't something that happened lightly. Maybe he'd done it since then but it had never been for something so important.

"I'm sorry," Altair said again, louder this time and Desmond could tell how much he meant it.

Cain was only marginally impressed. He poked Altair hard in the chest, "Be better," he said, angry still and then stalked off. Altair didn't go after him and neither did Desmond when Cain left. Altair just continued to stand there, looking like his world was ending.

"Altair?" Desmond asked when Altair didn't move for nearly five minutes. The immortal literally jumped a few inches, he'd forgotten Desmond was there. "You okay?" he asked, his voice sounded weak and thin to his own ears.

Altair stared at him, blinked, and then walked over to him. Desmond got a surprise when Altair hugged him tightly. Desmond hugged him back since it was _Altair_ who needed the hug. He could hear Altair breathing in his ear, deep and long. Desmond knew that kind. It was to help you to not cry. That sobered Desmond considerably. Altair had told him he cried, that he was human after all. But he always seemed so untouchable. Above basic human things like eating or sleeping or _crying_.

"Altair," Desmond said, not letting him go. "Do you remember what you told me on Hawk's island?"

"No. What'd I tell you?" Altair asked, his voice shaking a bit.

Now Desmond did let him go and put the shorter man at half arm's distance. "A man should be allowed to cry on his own time without being judged. You can talk to me later, I'll be here," he said it partially to reassure Altair that unlike Cain Desmond didn't hate him. Then he took his hands off Altair and walked away. He knew Altair would never break down while he was around, he'd never let himself be that weak. So he'd let Altair cry by himself. Which was what he'd want. He wouldn't let himself appear so weak around anyone, least of all Desmond. But Desmond knew he needed it, and so Desmond needed to leave.

"Desmond," Altair called when he'd made it to the door.

Desmond turned and looked at him. He didn't need to go into the sixth sense to know the future now. He knew what would happen as soon as he left this room. "Yeah?" he asked.

"I love you," Altair said.

Desmond smiled. Altair had never told him that and he knew it was for both of their benefits. "Love you too Altair," and then he walked out the room. "Demeter," he said, once the door was closed.

"Yes, Desmond?"

"No one goes into that room until Altair comes out. And I don't want any of you watching the inside. Do you all understand?"

"Yes, Desmond," his AI said together.

"Good," and after a moment of wondering if he should wait or leave. He walked away from the door.

* * *

><p>Idk remember who, but one of you birds is directly responsible for this. (I wanna say it was gg or wren. Good job)<p> 


	41. Not Quite Peachfaced

Desmond was careful when he found Jake and Lucy training with their soldiers. Human soldiers. Neither of them were 'special enough' to be trained by the Ilythians. That was despite the fact that Lucy could do something. Neither of them were quite sure _what_, but she could do something. The Ilythians rejected any claim that was made that she could, by chance, be some sort of psychic. Humans weren't psychic they said. Proeathans were psychic, and so were their bastard halfbreed children that humans had become. Or at least they had a small capacity for it in some small way if the right conditions were met.

Sometimes Desmond thought it was pretty convenient that only the proeathans were the psychics, and not both species. Like it was some grand design. Well none of them except Desmond was psychic. But he was a special snowflake and didn't really count.

Neither of them noticed him at first, which he didn't mind. Standing all in black in the back, out the way, he was more like a shadow than a man. He had his hood down now but was otherwise covered head to toe, even his hands. Since the instructors didn't notice him neither did the soldiers. They were busy watching Lucy and Jake disarm and throw a proeathan the ground in awe.

Different techniques had to be developed and trained into the men to fight proeathans. They were about a foot taller than most people and what worked on people your height or smaller often didn't work for taller people. And of course the Ilythian being the punching bag was also covered in full body armor, so they were about thirty pounds heavier on top of being heavier already. Bigger bodies, bigger bones, bigger brains, bigger muscles; everything was bigger, and you had to compensate for that. Which is what the current training was about apparently. Desmond just watched.

Once Lucy and Jake had demonstrated a few times everyone had to come do it. The little class formed up to practice the take down. For a second Desmond wasn't in Demeter. He was in Rome and all his students were lined up wanting to have their own chance to racing with his best archers. The summer sun baked the plaza on Tiber Island where targets were set up and three of his best archers were hanging around bows loose in their hands. Then a young, dark skinned man with a massive bow had come forward to try his shot against them.

Desmond blinked and the scene shattered. A memory of Ezio's. It wasn't the block loosening, it was just a memory. Ezio and Altair's memories were as much his as his own at this point.

He'd been distracted by the memory and didn't realize it was his turn to do the take down. Desmond found himself standing at the front of the line awkwardly.

"Ah, Desmond, didn't expect you here," Lucy said cooly, her words with a razor edge.

"Uh- I'm full of surprises," he said with as cheesy a grin as he could imagine. Jake found it amusing, Lucy did not.

"_Stadalla_," the Ilythian said in greeting. She was characteristically tall but Desmond could tell much about her since she was covered in body armor, including a helmet that covered much of her lower face, only really revealing her particularly dark golden eyes making her dark skin seem more silky.

"You going to do it?" Jake asked him.

"Sure, why not?" he stepped forward. The Ilythian became more nervous knowing it was Desmond. "_It'll be fine_," he told them. That didn't assure them at all."

The Ilythian moved into the position to initiate the take down. Desmond stepped right into it, leading with his hips. One leg swept up and found itself around the proeathan's knee, pulling them forward. As they lost their balance Desmond grabbed their arm and yanked forward dropping down into nearly a full crouch. Unlike the others in the lesson Desmond was taller. Not as tall as the proeathan, they still had about six inches on him at least. But his center of gravity was higher. He used the forward momentum of the Ilythian falling to give him an odd sort of boost where he pushed off the ground with his planted foot, twisting at the middle to get the proper torque. They ended up sort of doing a summersault, Desmond pulling the Ilythian down and pushing up on their legs. They ended up on their back and Desmond crouched by their feet. The Ilythian had genuine surprise on their face even as Desmond rose and twisted in one motion, turning and swung his arm down. His fingers formed a knife hand and he stopped the edge of his hand a hairsbreadth from their throat. The black bracelet around his wrist vibrated angrily.

The Ilythian's shocked yellow eyes met Desmond's, and he just grinned. "_You took that fall better than Master Magni_," Desmond said.

"_What?_" they practically squeaked even as Desmond got to his feet and offered the proeathan a hand. They grabbed it and he hauled them to their feet.

"_Magni, you know-_

_"I know who Magni is. You dropped him?"_

_"Well, yes."_

The look in the Ilythian's eyes went from fear and respect to outright awe. Magni was one of the most skilled Battle Masters in the Ilythian nation. He'd taught Desmond to fight like an Ilythian, and hated when he'd started mixing Ilythian _etji_a_ð_, the name of their martial arts, with his own. Apparently it was supposed to remain pure as one of the highest forms of fighting in the proeathan nations. Magni had been so mad when Desmond had mixed it with his already mixed martial arts. That move he'd just done wasn't _etji_a_ð_. Magni had been furious when Desmond had done it to him. Needless to say Magni hadn't wanted to train him anymore and only done so because Od had ordered it.

"Show off," Jake said. Desmond just looked at him, grinning.

"I'm too big for your take down," he just said with a shrug.

"Yeah cause you got an extra gigantic noggin," Jake teased. Desmond just shrugged. "And now you made us look bad," he motioned to the rest of the soldiers who were all staring at him. These were the rank and file soldiers, not the best fighters or leaders. They were the faceless mass of an army. Desmond hadn't been paying attention if any of them bad actually taken the proeathan down with any proficiency or not but he guessed not many from the way they were looking at him like he'd taken down a giant. It was like the first day of training with the Ilythians, the officers had been stunned and amazed to not only see someone fight a proeathan, but win.

"Oops, my bad," Desmond said, looking at the two of them a bit guiltily. The two of them just rolled their eyes. "I'll just hang back the rest of the class then," and he made a retreat.

He just watched until Lucy and Jake dismissed everyone and they left. The proeathan came up to him and sort of bowed. She wasn't wearing her helmet now and he could see her face. Like Zorya her face was angular and cat-like. Her silky black hair was worn in braids along her scalp to fit under her helmet and her lips and mouth were wide. Her nose appeared too small for her face and was turned up at the end a bit. _"I would be honored to match you whenever you want,_" they said.

_"Ah... Thanks_," Desmond said awkwardly, Ilythians were weird and since their social structure was about fighting so was their friendships. Being someone's regular sparring partner or offering to be one was akin to being their good friend. "What's your name?" He asked.

_"Baldur,_" she said. Well, Desmond sure wasn't expecting that. Wasn't Baldur a guy in mythos? Whatever he wasn't hung up on it.

_"Nice to meet you. If I get a chance sure I'd be happy to kick your ass,_" and she actually grinned a little. Then she left him and Desmond watcher her go. Well, that had been unexpected.

"Making all sorts of weird friends aren't we?" Jake asked.

"Well I mean I'm friends with the both of you. Can't get much weirder than that right?"

"Haha so funny I forgot to laugh," Jake said dryly while grinning. "What are you doing here?"

"Demeter told me my clone is still being worked on and I had nothing better to do than bother you two, obviously," Desmond said.

"Pfft, fair enough," Jake laughed a little. "Though we're both kinda busy right now."

"Oh," Desmond kept the slight hurt out of his voice. He'd barely had time to really see either of them since he's come back from his trek across the globe. It made sense they'd be busy. They both were instructors for their little army. Desmond wondered if they knew their soldiers were probably all going to die, that Desmond would send them to be killed at the fight in Atlantis.

"Yeah. I got a thing. You seen Altair? We're supposed to do it together."

Desmond thought of Altair, alone in the tomato garden, grieving. "Yeah, he said he had something to do but would catch up when he was done," Desmond said.

"Really? He told me he was going to check up on you then we'd go do the thing," Jake frowned.

"Plan changed I guess," Desmond shrugged. "I'll have Demeter tell you when he's done. Right Demeter?" he called.

"Yes Desmond," Demeter said.

"Great."

"Well that's annoying," Jake made a face. "Guess I'll go bother Shaun or something. He asks fun questions. Prick, but nice enough. Wanna come?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you where they're at," he said, eyes going to Lucy. She had her arms folded, watching them.

Jake looked between the both of them, "Right… well, I'll see you there," he said awkwardly and fled.

Desmond waited till they were alone. "Lucy-

"If the next words out of your mouth aren't 'I'm sorry' then save it," she said, her voice tight, angry even.

"I am sorry," Desmond said. "It wasn't fair to you what I did before I left. I knew it then, I know it now."

"Then why did you do it?" she demanded, every inch of her hurt.

"Because I'm an asshole."

"No you're not," she said softly.

"Well I'm selfish at any rate. I was afraid I would die in Apollo. I could have if Cain hadn't been there. You didn't want me, so I just took what I could. For that, I'm sorry. That was cruel of me."

She took a deep breath, "That all?" asked. "You going to do it again?"

"No," Desmond said. "It'll never happen again. Unless you want it to. I guess," he shrugged.

"You guess?"

"I don't-" he looked at her and there was no longing. There was no ache knowing she didn't love him. "I don't have a reason to really. I don't love you."

He watched her face change, dropping and she blinked several times, her arms loosening. She didn't look sad though. Maybe for an instant. But then she just looked relived. "You don't?"

"No," Desmond said. "its weird. I left and I knew I loved you so much it hurt when we weren't together. Now though," he shrugged.

"Good," she said.

"You think its good?"

She swallowed and then said, "I always knew, you didn't love me," she said and he was amazed her voice didn't shake. "The proeathans made you, just like they made me."

"Yeah but I liked you before. I mean, I liked the girl you're based off."

"But I'm not her," she said softly. "You don't remember, they took these memories from you so you wouldn't remember their mistake.

"They made me and woke you up, to see what would happen. You had no interest in me. I was so relieved. Then I didn't know why. Now I do. I was relieved I wouldn't have to hurt you. They were angry you didn't like me, since they put a lot into making me, even when I thought I was just a clone I knew that. So they put you back into your pod and gave you new memories, new feelings.

"You had minor stockholm syndrome and projected onto Lucy, even when you were with your ancestors. And then the guilt of killing her made you mourn and projected it as love because that's how you love Desmond. You mourn them, because they never stay. Your parents, your brother, all those girls and boys you loved and never stayed with. You never loved her. So they made you love her, and made you love me. The others took you away before they could wake you again."

Desmond said nothing, "Why didn't you tell me this?"

She took a deep breath, "Because I thought you were hurt enough. I thought even if I didn't love you I could one day, maybe, for real."

"Even though you _knew_ I didn't love you."

"Yes. But you thought you did. And there's been so much unhappiness for you Desmond I just-

"You're just as bad as me," he cut her off. "Or worse, really," and while he didn't love her now he was heart broken. In a way he didn't know his heart could break. He'd been broken a thousand times in a thousand ways, by a thousand people. But it still hurt. "And then you're _mad_ at me for something I couldn't control? That you _knew_ I couldn't control."

"I thought you could!" she cried. "I thought you'd be able to handle it or at least respect me enough to control yourself."

"Like you controlled yourself?" he asked, head cocked. "Before I left and we both thought you loved me," he saw his words crush her. "Even when you _knew_ that none of it was real. You just strung me along knowing none of it wasn't real. For what? My feelings? Fuck you," she swallowed. "If you'd wanted to do something good for me you should have told me. It could have been fixed and I wouldn't have had to _suffer_ before we had sex in Cordoba and then when I came here and had to tell myself over and over again that I'd be able to get over you. You knew I wouldn't and you let me do it anyway."

"I'm sorry," she practically whispered, her face twisted by emotion.

"Doesn't matter. I don't love you, just like you wanted. I felt bad before, you know, for kissing you. I thought I'd done something awful and wrong for not respecting your boundaries. But you knew I literally couldn't even help myself. Even if I'd wanted to. And you let me believe that lie the proeathans gave me."

"I thought you'd be happy to have that."

"I wasn't happy," he said. "I was miserable. Unless I was with you, unless I could see you, it was like I wanted to die. You got off easy. Hera took all those feelings and memories from you. You don't have to live with remembering what it feels like. I just wanted to be with you, and when I wasn't I was miserable." He laughed mirthlessly, "You know this is exactly the shit I expect from my life at this point." Then he said, and he knew he was mean when he said it, because she felt guilty, "I forgive you. You were scared and didn't want to be alone. I was the only reason Altair didn't just murder you. I was your shot to get away from those monsters that created you. So I forgive you your bullshit, because you're just as fucked as me. But that doesn't mean I'm not pissed about it."

"Fine," she huffed, breathing in deeply through her nose. "Is that all?"

"Don't come to me when you're lonely. Cause I couldn't come to you. I'll see you around," and he left to go find Jake and Shaun. As he left the lights flickered. He didn't have it in him to control himself. He was angry and hurt. He'd gone there to apologize and tell Lucy the good news that she didn't have to worry about him overstepping himself like before. He'd hoped to leave with Lucy and him on an even ground. Friends at least. Instead he'd left furious.

"Desmond," Artemis said when he entered the lift, she sounded hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"You were petty mean in there."

"I was," he said passionlessly. "But then I'm not really a good guy am I?"

"You're the _stadalla_," she said.

"Which is a cleansing fire," he said softly. His bracelet vibrated and he felt its cool, slick,black surface slide against his palm. "I really hope Atlantis just fucking kills me."

"Why?" now it was Altair's voice being used by Venus.

"Because my life sucks. I don't love her anymore, and after what I did she'll never love me. I have no more meaning than to just see this through."

"You could find someone else," Venus said.

He looked up at nothing, knowing his AI were watching. "Like you did you mean? So you just wear the faces of your masters' loves instead?" Venus said nothing more. "Don't think any of you can lecture me. Now take me to Jake and Shaun, at least they won't make me hate myself more than I already do."

"Yes, Desmond," Demeter said, her voice whisper soft. As the lift started to move Desmond blinked rapidly to keep himself together. He couldn't break now. Not now. Not until this was done. Not until Atlantis. Not until he'd saved the world.

* * *

><p>aggressively ruins everyone's day


	42. Duck, Duck

It took a day for Demeter to finish with his clone. She'd had to give him brain surgery, so it was understandable he'd need a recovery period. Desmond was there when they brought him into the human's war room led by two Ilythians. D2 didn't look happy to see him, or any of them. In fact he looked like he wanted to kill them all. Desmond doubted D2 was as good a fighter as he was, since Animus training only went so far before you had to actually get out there and practice, but he didn't doubt D2 could take out most of the room.

The Animus was already waiting and Rebecca was sitting at her screens, running last diagnostics. They'd be sending D2 as far back as he could handle for the first cut, as deep as possible so the Bleeding could begin quickly. There were restraints added to the Animus that hadn't been there when Desmond had used it. Unlike D2 Desmond had been willing. There had been no need for restraints, he'd let them put his brain under a laser scalpel of his own free will like an idiot. D2 didn't want to be here, he wasn't willing. Rebecca looked incredibly nervous about the entire thing since resistance of the Animus always made the process more difficult. They'd be giving D2 a mild sedative for his time in the Animus, so he didn't struggle and hurt himself or the others. The point wasn't to hurt D2 afterall, it was to get the knowledge trapped in Desmond's head that Desmond refused to give.

The Ilythians put D2 in the Animus and strapped in his arms. He was looking right at Desmond while they did the entire thing. D2 was all rage. A little bundle of self righteous fury that Desmond had learned to quell and control long ago. He knew he had a problem with his temper if it got away from him. He exploded like a super nova when things made him so angry. As a teenager he'd been bad at controlling it and he'd been locked in the basement of his childhood home at night at least once a month. He hadn't been able to control his mouth, his anger, his grief he was all expected to squash. When he'd run away he'd mellowed out some since the source of most of his rage now wasn't in his life, but he could still go super nova. The morning after in Cordoba he'd gone super nova. Desmond was good at keeping that sort of hurtful anger in check though.

D2 was not. He was young, even though he looked Desmond's age. He had all of Desmond except his control. No amount of reliving his memories was enough to control the Miles temper. Say nothing for the fact that D2 knew what was going to happen to him and hated them all anyway for it. The only thing that could control that fire was time and learning to get over it. D2 was in the 'the world owes me' stage of Desmond's life he'd grown out of a few years after he'd left the Farm. He was angry at everyone and thing and wanted the world to hurt and bleed like he'd been made to hurt and bleed. Desmond didn't know what sort of treatment he'd gone through in Juno or Apollo but he couldn't imagine it was nice. Desmond had just long ago accepted that the world sucked and there was no point in being angry at it, that the universe was vast and uncaring and his anger meant nothing, his hate meant nothing. It was better to be calm and go with the flow than resist.

Looking back at D2 Desmond felt bad for him. Not regret. Pity. D2 would never grow up. What they were going to do to him in the Animus would kill him. Desmond wondered what it'd look like to see his own dead body.

D2 flinched and hissed when one of the Ilythians stuck him with an injector gun. The gun gave a little pop and hiss pushing the sedative into him. The sedative worked quickly and in a few seconds D2 relaxed into the reclined chair, awake but no longer fully alert.

"It safe now?" Rebecca asked nervously.

"Net," one of the Ilythians said. Desmond told her it meant 'yes'.

She got up and went to the Animus carefully fitting D2 with the correct gear and positioning his head correctly. She gave a startled cry when D2 jerked his head towards her and stared her down. Shaun jumped up next to her to make sure she was alright. From there they got D2 properly together and D2 was too lethargic to go against them.

"He ready?" Desmond asked.

"Yes," Rebecca nodded, sitting at her machines again. "I just need to start the program." She fiddled with her keyboard and mouse for a few seconds before D2's eyes closed, the lights in the headrest flaring up. "He's in," she said.

"Good," he turned to the Ilythians, "We'll take it from here. Thank you for bringing him," he said.

"Stadalla," they said, inclining their heads and left.

Desmond went around to behind Rebecca to see over her shoulder. He didn't understand the code that was flying past on one screen nearly too fast to read. On a second screen there was a more standard looking master control program and on the third was a strange wire-frame looking image of black lines on a white background. It was a figure in an empty plain. "That's what it looks like to you guys?" Desmond asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him a moment, "Yes," she said. "Its much more detailed than it used to be. Used to be it was blobs and blocks and we'd have to hope things looked the way they were supposed to look."

"It looks realistic on the inside," Desmond said.

"That's because its your memory," Shaun said. "The mind can perfectly recreate an image given it has enough time to memorize the image. Or even if it doesn't it can fake it well enough to fool itself into thinking that it is correct. Its why you could run across places like Florence and Rome in less than ten minutes even though in real life such a thing would be impossible. The wire-frame is as close as we can get to you brain's brainwaves."

"So this you reading his mind?"

"In a way yes. In a controlled environment. We can't just read your mind while you're having a kip or something. It needs to be refined and the mind needs to be focused on what we want. The Animus makes the brain focus on what it needs to do, which is relive certain memories. Based on that focus we can create a sort of image from it," Shaun motioned to the wire-frame.

"So you guys could never really see what I was doing," Desmond said.

"Oh we had an idea. That blob there is a bad guy, that other one is a good guy, you just fell to your death for the twentieth time, stuff like that," Shaun shrugged.

"This thing got sound?"

"Not a lick," Shaun said.

"Damn."

"Does have a replay feature though," Rebecca said as the wire-frame began to shift, building the world Desmond's ancestor inhabited around the figure of D2. "I invented it," she said proudly. "Saves in-Animus sounds and speech as text over here," she pointed to the streaming code monitor, "we can read it afterwards."

"I thought the Animus was more advanced than that," Desmond said. "I swear you guys could see what I saw."

"Its weird. Some things come through really well," Rebecca said. "Things that have to do with Pieces of Eden or proeathans came through with a more robust clarity. On this thing they show up as actual colors. I had to code that in as it was overloading the previous system," she made a slight face.

"Huh. Any guesses as to why?" Desmond asked them. They both shrugged. They had no idea. "Okay, so where is he?"

"Early mesoamerica," Rebecca said, not looking at the wireframe, but rather the streaming code. "Looks like he's part of a tribe, he's out hunting," her eyes darted across the screen as fast as the code flew down it. Desmond looked from the code monitor to the wire-frame and didn't understand how she was seeing that since it just looked like a whole bunch of white lines.

"How long should this take?" Desmond asked.

"Not long… though he's not moving," she frowned.

"Not moving?"

"Yeah, he's just standing there, though apparently he's supposed to be out hunting."

"What's he doing?" Shaun asked, confused, and looked at the sedated clone in the chair.

"I don't know. Everything's running correctly," Rebecca said, confused. "The program's running at optimal levels, his brainwaves are fine, and he's stable. There's nothing wrong I have no idea why he's not moving."

Desmond knew. "He's not moving because he doesn't want to," he said. "He knows we need him to participate to get what we need. So he's just denying us that and the cut isn't as deep if you aren't going through the motions. He knows that, cause I found that out. I was less tired at the end of a session if I could keep Ezio in a limited location."

"So then what do we do? There's no real way to make him run the simulation."

"Can he hear us?" Desmond asked.

"Sort of. He can hear us if you're closer but its less voice and more intent."

"Good," and Desmond went around the table and leaned down to D2 in the Animus so he was close to his ear. "They're coming Desmond," he whispered, his voice with the old paranoia he used to have when he was on the run. "They're coming for you. You have to run. You have to run or they'll catch you. You know what they'll do when they catch you Desmond. They'll take you home. They'll take you back to the Farm. Can't you see them? Just behind you? They're coming. You need to run, get away. If you don't they'll catch you-

"He's moving," Rebecca said in surprise. "He's moving really fast too."

"What'd you say to him?" Shaun asked as Desmond stood.

"Doesn't matter," Desmond said. "He's going now. Hunting?"

"Right now just running," Rebecca said, watching the code. Shaun and Desmond watched the wire frame and several minutes passed, "I think he's synced, he's hunting now," she smiled and turned to Desmond. "Whatever you did, you got him to sync."

"Yeah," he gave her a little smile back, it didn't reach his eyes. "He'll be good now? I don't need to stick around and watch myself sleep right?"

Rebecca laughed, "No. We will."

"We have a lot of experience watching you lay around," Shaun teased.

"Don't have too much fun and if you need me come get me, I'll be able to spur him on."

"We will," Rebecca promised. Desmond then bid his goodbyes and got out of there. As he left he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for what he'd just done to D2.


	43. Exousiai

I did wanna do some other 'stuff' before I got to this part. But I realized idgaf enough about what that stuff _could_ be to think about it. It'd just be filler anyway. I decided to just skip it and get to the fucking monkey.

* * *

><p>Desmond didn't like going into the Animus room. But he did because D2 was acting up. Desmond had scared him a bit at first and after his first ten hour session he'd complied a bit, the nagging voice of Desmond in the back of his mind, telling him to run, to move. Stillness was death, or worse; being taken home. They'd been stepping back in time the past few days and had finally reached Eve. The cut was deep and according to Shaun the Bleed was awful. D2 spoke English only half the time and he'd only been in the Animus a few times.<p>

Altair had come in to put in the block. But like everything a block had to be given willingly. If you forced it it'd be brittle, it'd crack and eventually break, allowing the flood to run its course. D2 apparently refused to listen to Altair. The only person not surprised by the news was Desmond.

When he showed up at the Animus room Altair was there, with an Apple. Shaun and Rebecca were also there as well as the two Ilythian guards that escorted D2 from his quarters, it was too nice to be called a cell, to the Animus room and back every day. D2 was strapped to the chair, staring Altair down with all the hate he could muster. When Desmond came in his focus shifted to him instead.

"_Eni-ka stadalla_," D2 hissed at him from his chair.

"What's that?" Desmond asked, his brows only going up a bit. He looked at the Ilythians for clarification once he was with them.

One of the Ilythians said, "_He isn't speaking _English,_ he's speaking the language of the __Adjatevs__."_

_"What'd he say?"_

_"Hello."_

_"_Well he's pleasant at least," Desmond said. "So he's acting up again?"

"Yes," Altair grumbled. "He's even more disobedient than you."

"Yeah, sounds like me," Desmond said, hands in the pockets of his jacket in a blasé manner. "He's at Eve?"

"He was. Then we pulled him out and called Altair to apply the block," Rebecca said. "He keeps resisting."

Desmond went to the Animus where D2 was strapped and squatted down next to him, looking at him with slightly pursed lips. D2 glared at him defiantly. "If you speak English like a good boy so we can talk I won't humiliate you in front of them," he said.

D2 hesitated, weighing his options. "Fuck you," he seethed.

Desmond just grinned, and stood up, "You all can leave," he said.

"What? Why?" Shaun asked.

"Me, myself, and I need to have a little chat," Desmond said. "Now leave, please. I'll have Demeter call you back in when he's cooperative again."

"Alright," Rebecca said slowly, not liking it. But she and Shaun did leave.

"You too," Desmond told Altair.

"I think it'd be best-

"Altair," Desmond said. "Please. At least let me have this."

Altair frowned, "You're going places I don't like."

"I know."

"Don't hurt him, that's not the point."

"I know," and Desmond looked back down at his clone. Altair left as well. That left Desmond with the Ilythians and his clone. "_Give me the key to his restraints and leave,"_ he said.

_"Stadalla, Ando gave us strict instructions to-_

_"I know what your Ando ordered you to do," _he looked at them both. _"But I outrank him. Ando Od takes his orders from me. Now do as I say."_

_"Yes, stadalla_," and they handed him a ring with what looked like a USB on it, only it was made of black crystal with gold chips in it. The Ilythians left.

Desmond was alone with his clone.

"Why do you have to be so difficult?" Desmond asked him.

"You know why," D2 said.

"Right," Desmond grimaced. "But even I submitted to the Animus when I thought my life was in danger."

"I _lived_ in your memories," D2 hissed, "In a device like this. Only better, more advanced. This toy is nothing to what I spent day and night in."

Desmond looked down at his clone, "And yet you're already falling apart. Spent what? Four years in an Adjatev Animus without fail, but spend less than a week in Rebecca's and you're losing yourself already."

"I'm not," D2 said. "I still know who I am."

"But you're no one," Desmond said. "You're a copy. You have no memories of your own. You have just mine. You know who I am, but who you are? You have no idea. You're no one Desmond."

"I am someone," D2 insisted.

"You're. No. One. A shadow at best. Of me. I bet you still love her," D2 froze. "She doesn't love you, she never will. She doesn't even love me you know. And I don't love her. Neither do you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said shakily.

"Yes you do. Odd, that they'd give you my tampered memories and not before they tampered with them. They made you love her, and then probably told you if you ever got close to her they'd kill you. She wasn't for you. She was for me. Cause the hero always gets the girl right?" D2 was trembling. "They couldn't risk you _contaminating_ her. Still. Why give you tampered memories?

"So you'd never hurt her? No matter how angry you got? No matter if you wanted to. I could never hurt her, not even accidentally. Fail safe in case we met in Apollo or Nike or wherever and fought over her. They didn't want their precious synth hurt-

"Don't call her that!" D2 snapped.

"What? A synth? That's what she is. A fake girl, just like you're a fake boy."

"She isn't fake! She's real! I'm real!"

"Or maybe they gave you my tampered memories because you were a rush job?" Desmond ignored his outburst. D2 said nothing, but was hanging on every word. "I know you. You're smart enough to know you weren't the first clone of me. Lucy said you're four years old, same as her. But I wonder if that's true? What if she met my other clones? However briefly they were alive before reliving my memories killed them. Then the last one died and my ancestors were drawing near.

"You seem like a rush job. You're me at sixteen, angry, bitter, hateful. You're still mad at mom for never loving you. Still grieving your brother who abandoned you. Angry at dad for never being there for you. They wanted you to be me. They made a child and put it in a man's body. You might have lived my life, but you're just a bratty teenager. Pissed at the world, thinking it _owes_ you something.

"It doesn't. This is the reality Desmond. You're locked to an Animus, I'm not. You were always going to die young, we both were.

"Its time to grow up and accept your fate. We need you to live as Eve."

"No," D2 said softly. "I refuse. I am sick of being a god damn pawn! You're me. I'm you. How don't you understand?"

"Because I made it across the chess board," Desmond said. "I grew up. I'm not the pawn anymore, I'm the queen. But you're still that pawn. You need to cooperate."

"If I don't?"

"I'll make you," Desmond said simply. "Demeter," he called lightly.

"Yes, Desmond?" she asked.

"You can control this room's appearance yes?"

"Yes, Desmond."

"Alright," Desmond reached down and insert the USB looking key into the restraints. They snapped open and before D2 could lunge at him Desmond grabbed both his wrists and yanked him out of the Animus chair. He then shoved D2 to the floor, away from the machinery. "Do what we talked about," Desmond said darkly, standing above D2 who was a bit stunned from being yanked around. Desmond knew rapid movement while Bleeding as heavily as D2 was left you disorientated easily.

"Yes, Desmond," she said and the room changed. Or rather, a projection was laid across the room. It looked like a basement. Partially finished with a finished floor and ceiling but rough walls. There were no windows. In the corner were some punching dummies. Three were broken, the 'arms' snapped off or the soft bodies ripped open, the stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The basement was lit by a light at the top of the stairs and a single light fixture in the middle of the ceiling.

D2 looked up at Desmond with wide eyes, his breathing deep and nearly labored, his pupils tiny pricks despite the fact that it was low light.

"You know where we are," Desmond said.

"Please don't," D2 said softly.

"You're going to stay here till you're ready to behave," Desmond said and he wondered if D2 was even seeing him or if the stimuli was overwhelming him and he was instead seeing Andrew. He'd used the same words Andrew always used whenever he made Desmond stay in the basement for bad behavior. He'd spent many nights in the basement of their home on the Farm. He used to hear rats down there, and bugs. Once he'd woken up with a spider on his face. Desmond was _petrified_ of basements because of what Andrew had subjected him to as a boy. Andrew said he'd never hurt Desmond as a child. And he was right, he'd never hit Desmond, or his brother. But trauma wasn't always physical. Being in this space made Desmond feel ill as it was.

"I'm sorry," D2 whispered.

"Will you submit to Altair?"

"No," his voice was a bit stronger now, but still rather weak.

"We'll talk again when you're ready to be a part of this," he again used the same words Andrew had once used on him. He knew he didn't have to restrain D2. The projection would keep him on the floor, trying not to have a panic attack for a while.

He left the room and sighed in relief of being out of there. He'd been trying to show he was unaffected but his heart was racing and his palms were sweating in his gloves. He'd been as terrified as D2. Unlike D2 he had the experience to handle and deal with his fear. He was sure the rational part of D2 knew that the basement wasn't real but in the moment it seemed real and terrible.

"He ready to cooperate?" Altair asked, standing just off to the side.

"No," Desmond said. "Give him some time to think about it. I'll talk to him in a little while," he told Shaun and Rebecca.

"Its safe to leave him in there with the Animus?" Rebecca asked.

"Your Animus is fine," he promised her even as he handed the Ilythian his key back. He looked confused, but knew better than to ask.

"If you say so," she said. Desmond just nodded. "Well, break time I guess," she looked at Shaun who nodded and the two of them left. Desmond motioned to the Ilythians that they were free to leave and they left in the other direction though he sensed them stop around the corner, just out of sight. They took their duty as D2's guard seriously.

"Everything all right?" Altair asked.

Desmond gave a strained smile and a cough of a laugh that was mirthless, "I _really_ hate when you ask me that."

Altair frowned, "I'm just concerned. You're important to me, kid. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I'm fine," Desmond said. It didn't feel like too much of a lie.

"Be honest with me, what'd you do to him in there?"

"Nothing. I just took him back to a time and place that'll make him… agreeable."

"Careful. You'll start to sound like Andy."

"I'm not like him," Desmond snapped.

"Promise me you won't lose yourself for whatever you think Eve can show us," Altair said. He reached out and Desmond let Altair grab his arm. "I don't want to lose you too," and it was a shot to the heart. "Bad enough you'd rather talk to Cain than your own family. Don't make me watch you become something you're not."

Desmond swallowed thickly. "I am what I need to be," he said.

"That sounds like Cain. And we both know you're never anything but yourself. You don't have to be what you need to be. The world will get along with you being you."

Desmond let a few of the barriers he'd built up the past few months drop away some. "Don't take this the wrong way; but I'm really glad Cain screamed at you."

"It put things in perspective for sure," Altair said, his voice tight and short. "Like that the future I saw will never happen, so now I just need to focus on keeping you in one piece till you figure out what to do next."

"Thanks," Desmond said.

"Just do you," Altair said. "Cain's gotten into your head that you have to be this savior of the world. That you have to adapt to the world. You don't. If what I understand about the _stadalla_ is true then you don't adapt to the world, the world adapts to _you_." Desmond had never thought of it like that.

"Yeah," Desmond said, that made a lot of sense to him. Cain said he balanced the world and acted like Desmond had to do the same. But he didn't. Not really. If Cain was the great balancer, than Desmond was the unbalancer. Or something. All he knew was that when Altair said it like that the weight felt a lot less heavy than it had been. "Thanks," he said, meaning it.

Altair smiled a little at him and pulled him close to give him a one armed hug and to press his lips to Desmond's temple so briefly Desmond was sure he'd imagined it. At the very least it made him feel a bit better. Altair had let go of a lot of things the past few days. The truth about his ill fated future, that Cain had always loved him and how he'd ruined all his own relationships with everyone. A lot of weight had slid off Altair too and he looked more like the young man Desmond had seen in the Animus. Burdened with purpose but not so much that it controlled him. Altair seemed to be back in control of his own fate, and not allowing it to be dictated by a lying angel vessel.

"So he's going to sit and stew for a while?" Desmond nodded. "What if he doesn't agree?"

"I have other ideas," Desmond said. "Hopefully I won't have to use them all. Some of them are horrible and mean. I want to twist his arm a little, I don't want to snap it off."

Altair's mouth twitched in a frown. "Just stay Desmond. Promise?"

"Yeah," Desmond smiled at him a little.

"Alright. While we have time fancy a spar? We haven't had a chance really."

"Sure," Desmond's smile widened. "I won't even use my future sight on you."

"Pft! Like that'd matter. I'll still trounce you kid. Some fancy future sight doesn't mean you can beat me," Altair scoffed.

"We'll see," Desmond grinned as they got into the lift and he punched the code in for the lift to take them to the training yard.


	44. The Wings of Memory

lots of feels about stuff and things in thiiiiis~

* * *

><p>When Desmond came back into the Animus room D2 was still there. His chest tightened a bit seeing himself curled up in a ball on the floor, eyes closed. He wasn't dead, Demeter would have told him if D2 had died. Rather he was asleep. Stressed himself out so much he's just fallen asleep. Sounded like something Desmond would do.<p>

He went over to D2 and nudged him with his foot. "Get up Desmond," he said.

D2 jerked awake and then scrambled away looking up at Desmond in slight fear. The room was the Animus room now. No more basement. Desmond felt sad looking at D2. "Get away from me," he said.

"You know I can't. I need you. Will you submit? Or do you want to go crazy like Clay and kill yourself?"

"Clay's alive," D2 said.

"Yes, but no one will bring you back if you die. Now will you submit to the block or not?"

D2 looked up at him, away, then back at him, fearfully. "Yes. Just... Not Altair. I don't want him in my head."

"It's Altair-

"He was the one who did this to me," D2 angrily pointed to his face where their scar was. D2 had two scars on his mouth, the second out there by Altair so they'd never not know who was who. "And threatened to kill me last time we met. I don't want him in my head or anywhere near me."

Desmond cocked his head at D2. He'd changed since the last time Desmond had seen him. It'd only been a few hours but D2 seemed older. Or at least more mature. "I won't be mad, just tell me the truth. Were you talking with Tiamat while you were sleeping?"

Desmond had always hated the fact that he had a very honest face. He'd learned to lie, but his face would sometimes betray him. That or there would be a tell and people would know. D2 didn't know how to really lie with Desmond's face. If he believed a truth he could lie, like at Alexandria. But a straight lie? Desmond could see it all over his face when he said, "No. How could I?"

"You can't lie to me Desmond. I know you too well. Now tell me the truth."

"Or what?"

"Don't try me. We both know you're scared. Now tell me."

D2 still hesitated. "She projected," he admitted.

"At this distance?"

"She has a global range for those she chooses."

"And she chose you?"

"You too," he said and a chill slithered down Desmond's spine. "But only when we sleep."

"What'd she say?"

"To remind you what you promised her. She said you wouldn't hurt me."

Desmond stepped closer to him and this time D2 didn't try to get away. Desmond squatted in front of him. "I don't want to," he said. "But I know myself. I don't do something I don't want to do unless forced to. You're making me do this because you won't make this easy."

"I don't want to die."

"We all die. Everyone. Neither of us want to die, but in the grand scheme of things you shouldn't even exist in the first place. You're a copy, bud."

"I'm still a person," D2 snapped.

"Are you? Really? Then who are you?"

"I'm... Desmond Miles," he said weakly.

"You're not. I am. You're no one. Ultimately you're expendable. Tiamat knew if I took you you'd die. She was okay with that. What she didn't want was me to torment you. So don't make me need to torment you. Just let Altair put in the block."

"No," he shook his head. Desmond felt his temper rise, irritation flaring. "Not Altair, someone else."

"Why?"

"We were just over this! He did this to me!" D2 growled and motioned to his face with the two scars. "And he threatened to kill me. Not to mention he's a fucking sociopath without an ounce of remorse and you're way too close to see it. Don't you remember all those times he _hurt you_? And then just shrugged it off like it was nothing." He grabbed Desmond's left hand, his fighting hand, and pushed it open. There was the scar on it in the flesh between the thumb and index finger. A training injury in Michigan. Hawk had sewn it shut. It was healed now, didn't bother him or impact his grip at all, but the scar was there. "He did this to you. He wasn't even sorry. He told you it was _your_ fault."

"It was my fault. I made an error," Desmond said.

"He's nine hundred years old, waited for _you_ the entire time. He's a monster and just used to hurt you all the time. And he lied to you, let you think he was dead-

"I let myself think he was dead," Desmond said firmly and took his hand out of D2's grip. "Altair's old, cracked, and as scared as any of us. He's a sociopath, but so are _we_," he gave D2 a hard stare. "Don't act like we're saints. I know you know about what happened in Atlanta." D2 had no come back for that. "And what happened in St. Louis. Remember that? Or maybe you remember Brandon?"

"We're not like him," D2 said softly, but with conviction.

"Then tell me, do you feel guilty?" Again no reply. "Don't throw stones in your own damn house moron," and he flicked D2 in the forehead. As soon as he did it he realized that was a Cain-ism he'd picked up for some reason. "We're not like him," Desmond agreed, "but we're similar. He, at the very least, with the rest of them, gets us. He's going to put in the block."

"I refuse. If you force him on me, then it'll be weak and then I'l be dead or crazy or crazy dead and then you'll be shit out of luck getting to Eve!" D2 said defiantly.

"He's the only one," Desmond said.

"No he isn't. Tiamat told me someone else could do it."

"Yeah? Who's that smart guy?"

"You."

"We both know that isn't going to happen," Desmond said humorlessly.

"She also said Cain could."

"Not Ezio or Hawk?"

"Hawk is broken, and Ezio has no delicate tendencies. Also you saw what Hawk did to Jacob. You think I want that to happen to me? Fuck no. I want him in my head less than I do Altair.."

"Fair enough. Fine, I'll ask Cain," Desmond said.

"And then I'll die."

"I'm sorry," Desmond said. "It's me, or you. The world needs me."

"Not me," D2 said softly.

"Unfortunately. Whatever it is that makes me Stadalla you don't have."

"What if I don't do it? Don't show you Eve?" D2 asked.

"I'll think of something."

"You promised Tiamat," he said.

"Tiamat let you go for the price of her freedom. She didn't want me to make you miserable, she still traded your life for her freedom. In the end her life was more important to her than yours. That's just the breaks. We're made to be used by the higher powers Desmond."

D2 said exactly what Desmond was thinking, "And I guess you're the higher power now?"

Desmond was taken by that statement and took a second to reply. "Looks like I am. I'll go get Cain," and Desmond finally stood, unable to do anything but loom over D2. "If I leave you here without restraints will you run?"

"You know the answer to that."

"So the Ilythians need to come in here and babysit you?"

D2 scowled at him. "I'll stay."

"If you don't and I have to go looking for you neither of us will like what I'll have to do," and D2 blanched. "Stay here." D2 nodded and Desmond left.

"Demeter, where's Cain?"

"With the children. Shall I take you to him?"

"No. Bring him here. He can jump when I say for once."

"Shall I tell him that?" she asked and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yes, do," Desmond said. He had planned to find Cain, but what D2 had said was true. He was a higher power now. It was time he started acting like it. People could come to him for once instead of him always running to them. He brushed off the other stuff he'd said. About Altair, the others, himself. Desmond would have said anything he could have in that situation to avoid what Desmond was doing to D2.

"He said to tell me that you don't get to order him around," Demeter said.

"Patch me through to the nursery, I'll talk to him myself."

"Very well. Mind your tongue though, I don't want those children to pick up those disgusting words you humans say to one another."

"Yes Demeter," he said with a slight grin.

"You're connected," she said.

"Cain," Desmond said. On the other end he heard little voices. "I know you can hear me."

"Did Demeter not deliver my message?" Cain asked.

"She did."

"Then why are we having this conversation."

"I need you. Its important."

"About?"

"Myself."

Cain said nothing for a moment, "I don't want to be involved."

"You're already involved. Come here. Now." More silence. "Demeter?" Desmond prompted.

"He's leaving the nursery-

"You do not get to order me around, kid."

"I do," Desmond said.

"And how do you figure that?"

"Because I'm _stadalla_ and you're not," Desmond said.

Cain scoffed, "That excuse will work on the proeathans and cow your human friends; but not me. I'm ancient. You don't get to boss an ancient like me around, _stadalla_ or not."

"Just get your ass here," Desmond snapped, temper rising. "I can just make Demeter bring you here, right Demeter?"

"In theory I could, yes," she said.

"Whatever you were doing, this is more important. Its about Eve, my clone, and the Toba event."

"All things I find boring and useless. Eve's dead, she has been for millennia, whatever wisdom she had is useless now. The enemy is different than in her time."

"You don't know that. Now get over here, I need you to put the block on my clone."

"I thought Altair was doing that."

"My clone likes you more."

Cain said nothing for a second. "I bet that'd chaff that brat to know the original _and_ the copy prefer me over him," he said smugly.

Desmond just rolled his eyes. "Yes you're very smart and wonderful. Now come do it so we can move forward."

Cain sighed like he was doing Desmond a great favor. "Fine. I'll be there shortly. I need to stop at Venus to get an Apple. Tell her I'm coming."

"I'm sure she's listening," Desmond said. "Venus, don't let him _leave_ with anything but that."

"Of course, Desmond," Altair's voice said.

"She really needs to stop that," Cain growled.

"Its him, or Lucy. I'd rather hear him," Desmond said cheerfully. He just heard Cain grumbling under his breath and then the audio cut out. "So?"

"He's heading for Venus. He should arrive in a few minutes," Demeter said.

Desmond didn't know if he wanted to go back into the Animus room or not. How much did he want to face his clone? The answer was; not a lot. So he ended up waiting outside until Demeter told him Cain was nearly there. When the ancient finally showed up Desmond felt a bit relieved. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting _stadalla_," but he said it a bit scornfully.

"No, you didn't. And you can afford to do things for people on their time and not your own," Desmond said. "You're old, you've had plenty of people do what you want on your time. You can do things on my time for a bit."

Cain frowned then sighed, "I suppose that's true if nothing else. Now shall we?" he motioned to the door.

Desmond opened the door and Cain followed him in. D2 was sitting at Shaun's desk, eyes closed. They opened when they entered. "Sleeping?" Desmond asked. D2 replied in a language he didn't know. To Desmond's surprise Cain talked back. They had a brief back and forth. "What was that?"

"An ancient form of an extinct Indian language. Haven't heard that in a while. My accent must be awful," he grimaced. "She's much more agreeable than your clone, is a bit confused, but not afraid. I told her it'd be explained," he shrugged.

"My clone is Bleeding a woman?"

"Yes? That so shocking? Your ancestors were female as well."

"I just never have… it seems weird that's all."

Cain spoke to his clone again and D2 got up. Desmond nearly laughed. He walked like a man trying to walk like a girl. He came up to Cain and in Cain's hand the Apple started screaming. Desmond blinked several times in surprise. He'd always heard singing. Always. This was the first time he heard the furious shrieking rage of the angel locked within the Apple. Cain put his palm on D2's forehead and closed his eyes, D2 also closed his eyes. This Desmond was at least familiar with, Altair had done the same thing to him, years ago.

The Apple glowed so bright it was nearly blinding, sending a light show all across the room. For a moment Cain looked like a being made of pure light. An angel like in the stories. A figure of retribution and rage for God. Accompanied with the furious screaming the images went well together.

Then the Apple dimmed, the scream cut off mid stream, the echo hanging in the air like the last note of a melody. D2 opened his eyes after Cain took his hand away. "Well that was weird," he said. "Second time that's ever happened."

"First," Desmond said.

"No, second," D2 said.

"He already had a block, a small one," Cain said. "Made by proeathan hands. Its much cleaner than your old one," he said looking at Desmond.

"Old one?" Desmond asked. "I only have one. From Altair."

"Incorrect," Cain said. "When Tiamat gave you back to me she told me she fixed it. Altair isn't good with subtle mending. His is from Tiamat at as. Probably to prevent him from Bleeding through your own Bleed, which would be… interesting," he looked D2 up and down.

"Don't even think about it," D2 growled.

"Regardless, he's got another now. Shouldn't Bleed anymore, just like you. Memories maybe, but no Bleeding. There, are we done now?"

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Good, I was busy."

"Yes of course, playing with children," Desmond said sarcastically.

Cain gave him a look, "I am surrounded by children. Some of them are just taller and insignificantly older than the small ones."

"Ouch," D2 said.

"Shut up Desmond, you're one of them," Desmond snapped.

"If you need me, come get me, you got a free one this time." He tossed Desmond the Apple and walked out.

"He's a jerk," D2 said.

"You have _no_ idea," Desmond said.

"Do I still have to get into the Animus?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to."

"Too bad. I'm going to tell Shaun and Rebecca you can fit into Eve. The Ilythians will take you back to your room-

"Cell," D2 said.

Desmond looked at him. "Yes, your cell. Because you're a prisoner, and so far have been treated very well. Better than I ever was when I was forced into the Animus. Relived Ezio's life to his thirties in two days. Eighteen hour days, so exhausted I could barely eat before wanting to just pass out. Not to mention the weeks I scoured his time in Rome. Or better yet locked in a bedroom covered in cameras at Abstergo. I couldn't even shit in peace." D2 wasn't meeting his eyes. "The Ilythians will take you back to your room without restraints. In the morning you're going to Eve."

"I don't-

"I don't care," Desmond said. "Do something important with your short life. I wasted mine being scared as shit all the time till about a year ago. Eighteen years, scared nearly every day of them. Wasted all that time. You have my memories, don't be an idiot like me. This is important. _You_ could be important."

"And die."

"I'm going to die too," Desmond said. "Don't think I'm some noble guy who doesn't think at the end of this I'm going to live to see the end. Atlantis is the end. Win or lose, Desmond Miles probably won't be walking away from it." D2 looked down, nodded. "Demeter, bring the Ilythians keeping him."

"Yes, Desmond." The Ilythians showed up quickly. Desmond told them to not restrain D2 any longer. They nodded, but were confused. Then they took D2 away. "Shall I tell Shaun and Rebecca that their work room is available again?" Demeter asked as Desmond stared at the Animus.

"No, I will myself," he said. "Demeter, turn off cameras and monitoring systems for this room."

"Why? What are you going to do?"

"Take a nap. I haven't been sleeping well still." Since he got back. The nightmares and terrors still came. He couldn't sleep in Lucy's room either. He'd been holding it together but he was so tired all the time. No one really noticed, not even Cain. Sleep deprived had just become Desmond's natural state, not even he noticed. He wondered if this was what Altair felt like.

"Very well. Monitoring has been disengaged, the door locked," she said.

"If I'm not awake in two hours wake me up," he said.

"Yes, Desmond," she said and then was quiet.

After standing there several more minutes Desmond went over to the Animus. He put his hands on the head wings. The plastic was cool to the touch. He checked Rebecca's station. Everything was off. Then he slowly sat into the Animus. His body went limp and he relaxed. Once upon a time this had been the only way he could sleep, when he was plagued by nightmares and screamed in his sleep and thrashed in his sleeping bag. He'd found that if he waited for everyone to go to sleep he could sit back in the Animus and his body would relax, the nightmares would cease, and he stopped screaming and thrashing.

He closed his eyes and asleep instantly.


	45. Telephone Wire

oops its been a month. Though I wrote like 90% of this chapter back in May and then lost it... twice.

* * *

><p>The Animus room was quiet except for the humming of machines. Shaun and Rebecca were hunched over their computers while D2 laid of in the Animus. Desmond's clone looked relaxed for the most part but now and then his muscles would tense, his brow crease, and face grimace. Desmond was watching, waiting.<p>

Then Rebecca looked up, eyes tired, when a little alarm starting twinkling. "That's the end of the session," she said. She got up with a groan and went over to the Animus to disengage D2 from it. She moved away from him when he woke up. D2 opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes far away, unfocused. Someone knocked on the door lightly before opening. Desmond didn't look to see who it was.

"Where is he?" Desmond asked Rebecca. D2 had been living as Eve for a few days now and they were trying to find the important part, the part about Toba.

"I think we jumped too far forward this time, but we're getting closer," Rebecca said and ruffled her short hair. "Post Event, but there's still a war. We didn't notice since Eve didn't stop even after that."

"I feel so bad for pregnant women," D2 suddenly said.

"Hmm?" Desmond looked at him.

"That was my last memory with her. Pregnant. What an awful experience," D2 said it like he was commenting on the weather. "Your body isn't your own, you're fat, you can't move quickly, everything sucks."

"We're getting closer," Rebecca said again. "We know Eve had her children shortly after Toba, meaning this is only a few months in the future. Tomorrow we'll try top pinpoint the exact time."

"Why do women subject themselves to that?" D2 asked and turned his head and looked at Rebecca. She said nothing and looked very uncomfortable by the question. "Rebecca?"

"Shut up," Shaun said. "Why would you even ask a stupid question like that? You have no sense in your head in the slightest just like the original," he scowled darkly at D2. "But yes, you should feel so lucky women put up with pregnancy. Without it you wouldn't be here."

"Huh, probably better," D2 was still unaffected and turned back around. "Right?" he asked Desmond.

"Demeter, call the Ilythians to come retrieve my clone," Desmond said without feeling. D2 sort of smiled at him. It wasn't a mean smile. Dick.

"They're on their way," Demeter said.

"Thank you."

"Did you need something Andrew?" Rebecca asked, standing at her station, hand on her stomach. Desmond's head turned sharply. Andrew had been the one who'd come in.

"I just came to check on your progress," Andrew said in his grave and serious way. "Hopefully tomorrow you'll have good news for us."

"That's the hope," Rebecca said as the Ilythians came into the room. D2 sat up in the Animus and waited. The Ilythians collected Desmond's clone in quiet efficiency and took him away.

Once he was gone Desmond went over to her station and looked at her computers. He still barely understood what he seeing but he knew it was all important. "If he's seen the aftermath of Toba, what happened?"

"Global EMP," she said. "But from what I can tell from the transcript," she motioned to one of the screens, "that wasn't supposed to happen. Or at least it isn't _right_. Or something. I'm not quite sure honestly. But it seems like what happened at Toba wasn't what everyone expected to happen."

"Hmm," Desmond said.

"Once the Animus has had time to render out all the dialogue properly and not just half clauses on the fly we'll know more," she assured him.

"How long will that take?"

"After that session? The rest of the day at least."

"In the mean time we should take a break," Shaun piped in. As he did he looked at Desmond and Desmond had a sudden feeling that Shaun knew he'd slept in the Animus a few times the past few days. This was Shaun telling Desmond he looked like shit from not enough sleep. How Shaun knew Desmond had been sleeping in the Animus he had no idea, but he did somehow. He was giving Desmond the chance to take a nap in peace without people freaking out or stressing him out or asking him six thousand times if he was okay. Desmond appreciated that. "I'm starving and could use a cuppa."

"I guess," Rebecca said and rubbed her eyes. "Though not too long. I want to get back and find out what we missed."

"Yes yes, of course dear, now c'mon lets go. That girl at the mess knows exactly how you like your coffee," and he shepherded Rebecca out of the room.

That suddenly left Desmond alone with Andrew. "Uh… you need something?" Desmond asked, wondering why Andrew was still there. He wanted Andrew to leave so he could take that rest Shaun had given him by dragging Rebecca away.

Andrew said nothing a moment and just looked at Desmond. "Sometimes I look at you and see myself," Andrew said with all the grave implications it bore which stunned Desmond. "But only for a moment. Then I see your mother," Desmond stopped breathing. "She was like you, you know."

Desmond had expected his father to say a lot of things. None of them were what he'd said. Now he scrambled to come up with a decent reply. "I don't," Desmond said. He'd never known her. She'd locked herself in her room his entire life. He couldn't even remember what she looked like, the sound of her voice. The most vibrant memory he had of her was of when he was eight and she picked him up and he was screaming, covered in his brother's blood begging him to wake up. There'd been no gentleness to her hands holding him, no motherly tenderness. She'd just taken him away, given him to someone else, to make him stop screaming. She'd acted to give herself the peace of silence again.

Andrew frowned, "No, I suppose you wouldn't," he said at length, sad and beaten. "I wish you'd known her. She would have loved you. You're so like her," Desmond knew honest grief when he saw it. Andrew wasn't saying this to manipulate him. At least, he didn't think so. "She hated the Farm too, and wanted to leave, wanted to go somewhere, anywhere, else."

"Why didn't she?"

"Your brother," Desmond swallowed. "I know it means nothing to you, but you're from a long line of Assassins, Desmond. That lineage isn't from me," Desmond knew that. He knew his father had been an outsider. "Your grandfather basically disowned your mother when… when she got with me. He wasn't happy about Duncan, but also wouldn't have tolerated his blood from just leaving. She could have left, but she'd have to leave our son. If she took him with her he would have hunted them down, just like he did you." Desmond didn't have to fake his surprise.

"I didn't send our people after you," Andrew said. "I wanted— hoped you would become my successor. Instead you ran away, just like your mother wanted to do and she and your brother were too afraid to do. I doubt you care, but I missed you-

"Should have thought of that before driving me away-

"I was acting with your best interests," Andrew snapped and advanced on the desks. "You were rebellious, head strong, talented and _good_. The Order would have ripped you apart, chewed you up and spit you out like it does all rebels. You think I was cruel, maybe I was, but you're my son-

"If you say you loved me I will choke you," Desmond growled, hands balling into fists. Andrew didn't say it, but Desmond could see it in his grey-blue eyes. Eyes Duncan had had. But there was nothing in them that Desmond found familiar, no loving memory there. He didn't care what misguided love Andrew had for him. He didn't want to hear those words from the mouth of a serpent. He'd worked so hard to make Andrew a tiny part of his life, to tell himself over and over again he didn't _care_ about Andrew. But the truth was he was afraid of the power Andrew had over him to this day. Sixteen years was half his life. You couldn't just shake off sixteen years of wanting to impress your father, wanting to hear encouragement and love so desperately you acted out sometimes just so he'd talk to you. Just so he'd _acknowledge_ you. Just so he'd even go 'just because you're the best in Forms doesn't mean you get to act out like this'. Desmond hated that about Andrew and himself. He wouldn't let Andrew destroy him like that again. He couldn't.

"I did what I thought was best. Just like you're doing now, with your clone," Desmond said nothing. "I'm starting to see myself more in you now. I'll be honest it frightens me," he seemed lost for words a moment. "I know I'm not the easiest man to get along with, and when I was younger I foolishly wanted you and Duncan to walk in my footsteps. Now, seeing you here. I'm concerned, Desmond, that you're becoming something you don't want to be."

"And what's that? You?" Desmond asked.

"Your worse nightmare; being just like your old man ey?"

"I need him to do this. Without it we lose. We die. There are no other options."

"I said the same thing to myself when Lucy sent me emails about your condition in Monteriggioni," Andrew said. "That it was necessary. That if I didn't push this agenda, push _you_, we'd lose, and the Order would be wiped out within the next generation because after the Purge we were holding on by our fingertips. I see now that any second option is better than what that machine does to people."

"There is no second option," Desmond said.

"There's always a second option," Andrew said. "I don't know what it is in this case, but there is one. Just like it was my option to not find you and bring you home as soon as we realized you were gone. It was my option to let you go, until your grandfather heard and had me send men. Until he sent his own men when I failed to bring you home."

Desmond digested that and neither of them said nothing, they just looked at each other. He'd never heard any of this. But then he and Andrew rarely talked. When they did it was cagey and quiet and Desmond was usually angry. Or Andrew would say something that would send Desmond into a rage and they'd end up yelling at one another. This wasn't a moment like that though. Andrew wasn't here to hurt Desmond, wasn't here to push his buttons or make him angry.

Desmond remembered what Clay had told him about Andrew, to give him a chance. He didn't know _how_ to be a good person, or father. Clay wanted Desmond to just give Andrew a chance. Desmond had said he had no chances for his father normally. He said he had no patience for it, not anymore. This time though, he did.

"What was she like?" Desmond asked after a long silence that seemed to have stretched to infinity.

"Who?"

"My mother. What was she like?" There was always that nagging in the back of his mind about her growing up. He'd always just wanted her to come out of her room, just once, to come see him. Duncan never talked about their mom. He acted like she was their pet, and he needed to take care of her like he needed to take care of Desmond. If he didn't no one else would. Certainly not their dad. Andrew liked to pretend Kaley didn't exist. Maybe he was ashamed, or grieving, he never knew.

Andrew had a visible weight appear on his shoulders. With his eyes he motioned for Desmond to take a few steps from where they were standing and they both sat at the chairs at the two work stations. Desmond sat at Rebecca's, it was rendering D2's latest experience as Eve still, the script chugging across the screen.

Looking at Andrew Desmond saw how old he was, for the first time really. He was almost sixty now. Grandfather age. That'd never happen. Duncan was dead and Desmond would probably be dead at the end of all this too. No one to carry on the Miles name. The long legacy that had gone into creating Desmond would end with him. Desmond said nothing to prompt him, knowing the old man needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Unless he was mad Andrew never spoke without thinking it through.

"Your mother, before you were born, was a special woman," Andrew said. "She's the only daughter of in her generation of Miles-

"Wait, I thought you were a Miles," Desmond couldn't help but interrupt.

"No. I took her name," Andrew said. "If your grandfather had to let us marry I'd become a Miles. He was angry at your mother for it, but he was obsessed with his bloodline. Everyone from him had to be Miles. I lucked out, I got a prestigious last name out of it, and so did you and- Your brother." Desmond didn't miss the hesitation in him talking about Duncan.

"When she was younger she was much more like you. She was filled with wanderlust and hated being kept at the Willow Creek facility where she grew up. She always knew what she wanted and when she put her mind to do it nothing and no one could stop her. It was her way, or no way.

"Which is how we ended up together. You know I was an outsider. Your grandfather didn't like me. He doesn't like outsiders."

"They're a bunch of try hards," Desmond said, reciting the words his own instructors had told him back when he was a boy. Assassins kept to themselves and everyone who tried to get into their super secret club were seen as inferior, weak, not nearly as good as those born and bred Assassins. They were try hards, wanting desperately to become Assassins, but always fell short. Nothing could compete with Assassins trained from birth to fight. Not Templars, not anyone.

Andrew grimaced, "Yeah he thought that. Certainly they weren't good enough for his daughter. But Kaley..." He had a long look in his face, remembering his late wife. "You couldn't tell her what to do. As soon as you did she'd do the opposite. But she was brilliant and beautiful. She liked puzzles and codes, she was training to be a code cracker since she didn't like to fight. She hated it and always tried to get out of her Forms apparently. Would rather break her arm if it meant getting out of Forms." Desmond's lips twitched. He remembered Duncan hated Forms too and even after his arm healed he always tried to get out of them.

"I was the guy her father wanted her no where near. So naturally within the first week of me being transferred to Willow Creek she said hello. And you didn't just ignore someone like Kaley Miles." He had the far off look in his eye again. "And I would have been stupid to ignore her."

"And?" Desmond prodded when Andrew wasn't totally forthcoming and was silent for a bit too long.

"We were both young, stupid. When your grandfather found out he punished us both. He sent me to the Farm, Kaley came with me. He was furious when we got married, had Duncan," Desmond didn't imagine the slight hesitation in his voice. He didn't seem to be lying, but Desmond knew it wasn't the whole truth. The fact that Andrew wasn't a Miles had been the biggest surprise so far. "The funny thing is is that sometimes I regret falling in with her. But she was so amazing. More than I could ever hope for, and she wasted her life to be with an outsider like me. She could have had so many bigger and better things."

"Did she regret it?" Desmond asked.

Andrew's brow furrowed a second. "At the end of her life... I can't imagine she didn't. The Farm and the world was worse off without her." Meaning when Desmond was born and she'd fallen into a depression she'd never been able to get out of. Andrew probably didn't mean it like that, but Desmond took it like that because he couldn't help but take it like that. That he was why the brilliant, impassioned, woman like Kaley had turned into a bed ridden shell, barely able to take care of herself and lived in a haze of depression.

What had happened to the two of them reminded Desmond of him and Lucy in a way. Altair, the grandfather, furious when his favorite, Desmond, had fallen for an outsider, Lucy. The affair had burned like a nova but was snuffed out shortly, all passion extinguished. Desmond knew his father didn't really love his mom when he'd been growing up. He could still remember what Altair had said back in New York before it'd all gone to hell. About sleeping with other people's wives. It was and wasn't like what had happened to him and Lucy. They'd been forced together, ripped apart, put back together again and then finally allowed to be as they were.

"Thank you," Desmond said after another shared silence.

Andrew's brows went up in surprise. "For what?"

"For telling me about my mother." Desmond had never known. Never could have known. It'd always just been Duncan taking care of him, and then when Duncan was gone Desmond had had to take care of himself. There was no one else who would. "And I wish she'd have never met you," he got up and Andrew said nothing, just watched him, pain etched across his face. "We all would have been better off without you, especially me." He left his father sitting there and Andrew had no reply, though Desmond could see it in his eyes, a quick word would have been easy.

"Desmond," Andrew said when the door opened. Desmond looked over his shoulder. "Don't become me. I realize its an awful way."

Desmond's face hardened, "I'm not like you," he said in what could have been a dangerous tone. "And I never will be. Thing we don't have even a bit in common is I'll fight to keep what I have. You'll just let it slip between your fingers wishing it'd stay," and then he left. Out in the hallway, the door between him and Andrew Desmond had to stop a moment and take a deep breath. For an insane moment he wanted to cry but it passed. "Where's Altair?" he asked.

"This way," Pluto said, a glowing line on the floor appeared. Desmond followed it. He found Altair at a fish tank. It had fish Desmond had never seen. Ancient things Demeter had decided she liked and wanted to keep alive and not just as genetic material in her cold storage. He was with Jake, and they were sitting, watching the fish, talking in Arabic. Desmond recognized the speech patterns, it was the old Syrian dialect of Arabic that bore a resemblance to modern Arabic but was a bit off, just like modern and middle English were.

"Hey," Desmond said, they both turned. Altair was sitting between Jake's legs, back to chest. It was a strangely vulnerable position Desmond had never seen Altair take before. They both turned and looked at him when he made his presence.

"Hey Des, what's up?" Jake asked.

"You busy?" he asked Altair.

Altair looked at Jake a moment, then back at Desmond, "No. What is it?"

"I just… wanted to ask you something," he said.

"What?"

"Did you know my mother?"

Altair didn't move. "Yes. Why?"

Desmond moved closer and then sat next to them on the grass. Like many places in Demeter, even some of the places humans and proeathans lived, Demeter had her moss grass covering the ground. "I was talking to my dad-

"That's never a good idea," Altair said.

"Yeah probably. But he started talking about my mom and… well, he's never talked about her before. I knew he wasn't telling me all the truth about her. You were at the Farm before I was born. Did you know her before— before I was born?"

Altair frowned in a very serious manner, "What happened to your mother wasn't your fault. You know that right?"

"Yes," Desmond said.

"Good. Cause I don't want you getting any stupid ideas that somehow you're responsible for her condition," he said sternly. "Kaley did it to herself and she regretted it her entire life."

"Regretted what?"

"Ever meeting Andrew," and Desmond swallowed a little. "What did he say about your mother?" Desmond told him. "Well he was right. She was brilliant, talented, beautiful, amazing, and rebellious," Altair said. "But his relationship with her is a lie. She did want to rebel against her father, so she got with an outsider. She ended up pregnant by accident. Ruined her entire life."

"Why?"

Altair huffed a little, "So the Order, as you know, is crazy in this century. They're basically fanatical about their ideals. Bloodlines are jealously guarded and long lines of Assassins are bred like pure-breed dogs, only with less inbreeding," he grimaced. "There's a _lot_ of pressure on women of families of certain blood lines to have children, to the point that in some parts of the Order, depending on who's running that area, abortions are not allowed. Your grandfather was, from what I heard from Kaley's many bitching sessions about him, a complete hard ass who followed that rule like a god given law. He couldn't even make an exception to his daughter or it'd make him look weak. So he forced her to marry Andrew, carry your brother to term, and then basically disowned her and forced her and Andrew out of Willow Creek to the Farm.

"I don't think you realized it while you were there, but the Farm was small as far as Order compounds were concerned. It was also where they sent people the Order didn't want to deal with or people who needed to be untraceable for a few months or years. Its so far off the grid it's nearly impossible to find or know about unless you know exactly where it is. Your mom and dad were basically banished to the Farm. Out of sight out of mind."

"That's awful," Jake said. "How the hell did that happen to the Order? Like I know it sucked during Malik's time, but at least they'd just kill you if you broke the tenants and not send you away in isolation," he frowned deeply.

"They were nearly wiped out several times by Templars. Each time they grew themselves again it was with even more secrecy, more rules, and different punishments that didn't kill but would put you away so you could hopefully spawn the next generation of Assassins. That way even if you were a shame to the Order your children hopefully weren't."

"That's fucked up," Jake said.

"You're telling me," Desmond said. "He also said that when I ran away he didn't look for me. My grandfather did."

"Probably," Altair shrugged. "We didn't really pay too close attention to who was sent to find you, we just kept them all away from you." He smiled a bit at Desmond. "I didn't know your grandfather, but if he was the patriarch of the Miles family he was probably a real piece of work and not someone you wanted to meet."

"So what he said… was a lie," Desmond said.

"Its Andy," Altair said like that explained the entire thing. "He lies. About everything. Its how he got to where he is now. He might have had feelings for her but I doubt he even loved your mother. She was his way into an important family. As an outsider that was huge for him. Kaley hated him when I knew her, and that more than anything is all you need to know about their relationship."

"They still had me," Desmond pointed out, hoping it wasn't as grim as Altair was painting it.

"Don't take this the wrong way, kid but she didn't want you," and a cold hand wrapped around his heart. Another important woman in his life who didn't want him. Of course. "You and your brother were both accidents, in truth she probably wanted neither of you. At least not with Andrew. She handled Duncan but when you came along," Altair frowned.

"What?" Desmond prompted.

"It isn't your fault," Altair said. "It's Andrew's. He thought Duncan was a useless son for the Assassins. He was right, in a way. The Assassins ruin boys like your brother."

"They did ruin my brother," Desmond said.

"I only know that Kaley didn't want any more kids. But well, here you are," Altair looked him up and down. "Andrew's second try. Second failure at what he wanted out of a son. A worthy successor to the Assassins, someone who'd make Kaley's family care."

Desmond looked at the big aquarium sized tank. "So I'm just a jacked up mistake," he said and then leaned back some.

"Don't feel so bad," Jake said quickly. "I was a mistake too." They both looked at him. "Apparently my birth mom put me up for adoption cause she was supposed to marry this guy aaaand, well I wasn't his kid and he was pissed about it. That's what my moms told me at least. People make mistakes, it doesn't mean _you're_ a mistake."

"Yeah but you're different. Your moms actually loved you," Desmond said.

"Yeah and? Your dads love you too though," Jake said and Desmond gave him a weird look. "What? Don't look at me like that. You know exactly what I mean." He glanced down at Altair, who didn't notice and was also giving Jake a weird look.

"What the hell are you talking about Jake?" Altair asked. Desmond just sort of laughed. "What? Did I miss a joke here or something?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," Desmond said, more talking to Jake than Altair. "Weird way of showing it though."

"Eh, they're stupid what can you do about it?" Jake asked.

"What are you two going on about?" Altair asked.

"Nothing old man," and Jake gave him what could only be described as a noogie. That, expectedly, pissed Altair off and Desmond laughed when Altair jumped Jake. There was a brief wrestling match where Altair got Jake into a headlock and gave him a super noogie till Jake howled for mercy. They didn't get up though and except for taking Jake out of the headlock Altair basically stayed laying on top of Jake, who didn't seem to mind the intimacy.

"Thanks Jake," Desmond said with a smile.

Jake smiled back, "Hey, what are friends for, right?"

* * *

><p>Jake is the cinnamon roll of FM.<p> 


	46. The Freer: Thunderbird

something something Eve Intermission something something

* * *

><p>The assembled are waiting for me but I am still here stalling. Today is the moment, the moment of decision, of action. This is our day of triumph, the day we free ourselves from this nightmare we've been living for millennia. Today we fix the wrong made so long ago when our ancestors first stumbled upon Atlantis, first gazed upon the Idol in the city, the first time we felt the E'dn for the first time. Today will be the turning point of this War and soon we will be free. Today we are our mightiest, our fiercest, our greatest, our bravest.<p>

I've never been more afraid.

I threw up this morning and last night I could keep nothing down. I can't let my people know, they'd worry. Worry I'm not strong enough. I can't face myself, let alone my people. The sin on my hands is so great.

All the blood.

For a moment my eyes prick with tears but I will them away as the ghost of a name drifts from the back of my mind. His blood on my hands and because of that I will never be clean.

I can still remember the day Adam came to the Garden in Atlantis from his old master's plantation. So tall and skinny and afraid. He was afraid of us with our yellow eyes, shifting in and out of sight. But he was the best of us and I killed him.

I killed him.

Next to me the vessel twinkles in mocking brilliance. I can't bear to part with it though it fills me with such shame.

There's a knock on my door. 'Eve!' they call and I feel a great chill, 'We're ready.'

They're ready. I am not.

'Saturn, give me strength. Please,' I whisper in prayer. The visage of the goddess is an old lithograph from a Wanted poster printed centuries ago. Rebels preserved it and the colors are still perfect and clear. Unlike the other gods Saturn is special to all of us in this War. She was _real _and looked like me. Unlike the Fourteen she was _human_.

She'd led the fight in the First Uprising. Strong and fierce and never lost, never backed down. Her face had been plastered across Gardens across the world, she was enemy number one of the entire proeathan world. Saturn had been a warrior goddess in truth and had shunned all the teachings the proeathans forced upon us. She'd learned the old teachings from humans who'd managed to stay secluded for so long. Illusion and empathy and more beyond the simple dream sharing. Nothing like the proeathan _sikaz_ but just as powerful, but different. In the middle of her rebellion proeathans had sent angels to kill her, forced into obedience by the very thing that makes humans such wonderful, social, creatures. They used the gift of our species and twisted it into something ugly, something monstrous.

We've never forgiven them for killing Saturn.

Saturn is our goddess now. The proeathans can't have her. No matter how they try to expunge her humanity and wash her of her angelic nature and lie to the other proeathans that she was like them we know the truth. We know she was human. One of their _precious_ gods an angel. Fifteen. Our blessed Fifteen, and not even Sixteen can make us forget. She tried. Oh Eros tried to quench our rage at the loss of our Saturn but such a fire does not die. It will be tamed, turned to embers, but crack them open and you can still start a wildfire.

I feel Saturn fill me. For an insane moment I wonder if this is what proeathans feel in the presence of good luck. They say its like being touched by a god. I feel that. Saturn gives me strength and some of my fear leaves me. I remind myself Saturn won a great battle the morning of her third son's birth. If she can win a fight after the pains of a birth then I can surely end this without.

I grab up the vessel and open the door. Zaphenath-Panea is standing there, waiting for me. As usual, he's perfect. He is my other half, my other everything. I couldn't live without him. Funny. I used to think the same about Adam. Yet here I am. Of anyone he's the only one who has even the slightest idea that I'm afraid, that fear is an old friend to me.

'We were waiting,' he says. His voice is deep and he speaks in a soft tone. Not out of secrecy, but because Zaphenath-Panea couldn't speak loudly if he wanted. I never have to strain to hear him though. His voice always reminds me of when we were young and sleeping in the Garden barracks together, sleeping opposite each other in the hallway, whispering in the dark and only pretending to sleep when one of the arch's passed by to make sure their flock was asleep.

'Well wait no more, here I am,' I say. The vessel falls into the pouch on my hip. 'Lets not waste more time.' He turns with a soft, kind, smile, and heads out, expecting me to follow. As I do I swallow. I remind myself of Saturn. I am Saturn. Nothing can hurt me.

As we walk down the halls of the abandoned garrison I bring myself up. In the pouch I can feel the vessel stirring. It calls to me but I ignore it. I will only use it when I have need of him. Not before. Angels are a step above our normal human kin and they look to us with the same awe they do the gods, as Saturn. To them we might as well be gods. It is a shame. It means we get little rest and we must always be showing ourselves for what we are.

We walk and on either side of me there is another me, both the same as me, a perfect likeness. There was a time when such illusions would leave me drained. That was then. Now I do not even pause in my step.

When we leave the garrison there are our people. Our army. Ready, waiting. Class-gen numia form a corridor on the field and there are platoons waiting to board each one. It is a beautiful day. The sky is clear, the sun is shining. I swallow again and take a deep breath. The illusions next to me do not falter. Those near us see us first and turn and stare. I am their commander, a title I never wanted, but take it because no one else will. Looking out across all these people I know many of them won't make it back.

Not for the first time I wonder if I will make it back to our garrison.

Next to me Zaphenath-Panea offers me one of his many slight, kind, smiles. 'Shall we?' he asks me.

'I suppose its now or never,' I say and my two illusions speak in my voice. It gives my voice an echoey quality I have never gotten used to.

'We await your signal,' he reminds me. Zaphenath-Panea is always so patient with me. He knows me better than anyone, better than myself even sometimes.

I look out down the corridor. More humans and angels alike have noticed us. Beyond the class-gen numia are the larger class-adi ones who hold the rank and file. The faceless masses of our army. Cargo numia. Repurposed slave transports. The conditions in them today are much less cramped than they were originally used for.

The angels shimmer in the light. Illusionists stand amid fire and light and rain and clones of themselves. Empaths pull back the layers around them, seeing us all for the scared little children we are, playing in a war against beings more powerful than us. _Chentars_ are ringed by our strongest fighters who are drawn to them like moths to a flame. Shamans look at us, sightless, but able to see so far. Other angels who still practice the _sikaz_. Old and wizen pyromancers of Netalln stand bent over next to youngsters who have to hold them up. They spent their entire lives to master the proeathan _sikaz _and now they will use it on their former masters. There are similar mancers for the rest of the elemental sikaz. And then there are the most dangerous. Our Cains.

They're all waiting for me and every one of them is going into this knowing they'll die. Not a single one hasn't lost someone. We've all been ripped from our homes and forced into the Gardens made by the proeathans. Forced to bend under them. We all come from somewhere else.

Today I'm to end it. Today we make our last stand. If I fail, so does the rebellion. The angels know it. We can see it in our dreams. I succeed in one future, fail in another and it changes by the day, the hour, the moment. One second I'm the savior, the next I'm the enslaver. All the angels know their lives hang on that thread and if I fail they are all damned to vessels. Just like Adam.

A class-dua numia is waiting nearby for me and Zaphenath-Panea and I want to board. I can't yet. There is the ritual left and I must abide. I look up at the sky, its still so bright and blue. My illusion clones fade. Above the sky darkens. All an illusion. To affect so many is no easy task and I know after this I will have to vomit. For now I stand strong, staring up at the sky. Clouds form rapidly, even the shadows change. Saturn always fought her battles in the rain. Proeathans _feared_ the rain itself while she led the first uprising since that was when she struck. Today I give my people the illusion of rain. They all know it for what it is. Saturn watching over us. Our blessed goddess, number Fifteen, guiding us in this battle. Down the corridor angels and humans cross themselves and I can see Saturn's names on their lips to be blessed.

A false rain falls, dotting the field and the paths between the grass, darkening the stones. I begin to feel the strain when I make dark spots appear on clothes as though touched by rain.

'That's enough,' Zaphenath-Panea says softly, touching my arm, reminding me of reality. 'You've done enough.'

I close my eyes and lift the rain. It falls up towards the sky. My people raise their hands upwards as if to catch it. The angels know what I do is illusion. The humans though, they think we are magic. They think we can actually control the weather or summon the presence of Saturn. In the distance, down the corridor by the class-adi, I can hear some of them call her name. I open my eyes and the clouds are all that remain of my false rain. The angels have fallen back into themselves and they appear less mighty than before. They know its just a trick but I can see it on their faces they want to believe. They want to believe our _stadalla _walks with us.

I board the class-dua numia, Zaphenath-Panea right behind me. There is a small crew in there, all angelic. All loyal. I fall into a chair and as the door is closed Zaphenath-Panea offers me a bucket. I vomit and what comes up is stomach acid which makes me puke harder. There's nothing left and I curl up in the chair, facing the window and pull out Adam's vessel. It pulses in my hand and I curl around it. The numia lifts off and I release my illusion. The clouds outside fade and I can see my people boarding their numia.

We are going to T'bkan. The proeathans know we're coming. They still have angels and force them to dream share with us. We try to blind them and they beg us to not speak in front of them but some things can't be fully controlled. We're too removed from our power still. All our illusions and empathy and _chentars_ are new skills. It's only been a few generations since we've taken the E'dn back like it always belonged to us. We can't control it like we should. We can't always control what we share. So they know where we're going and we know they know and what they're planning. They don't know why we want to go to T'bkan. It is our Idol and we're loathe to let them know this. The terror those proeathans would feel if they knew.

T'bkan will have to wait. The use of the E'dn doesn't destroy me like it did when I first learned to use it, but illusions on such a scale still make me weary beyond belief. I close my eyes and next to me I feel more than see Zaphenath-Panea sit next to me. He puts a hand on my leg but I don't look at him. I close my eyes and the vessel in my hand glitters. I smile a pained smile when Adam sings to me and I almost sleep.

* * *

><p>Let the speculation begin :3c<p> 


	47. A Down Comforter

I keep telling myself I need to make Desmond interact with his OTHER ancestors other than Altair.

Ezio is a super close second on Jake's lead of beautiful cinnamon roll in FM.

* * *

><p>Shaun found him sleeping. Desmond woke to his footsteps and when he opened his eyes, some explanation or lie on his lips they died when he saw Shaun. Shaun just looked over at him as he sat at his station, a mug of steaming tea in one hand. Desmond sat up, a bit wide eyed and worried, wondering what he'd think. He'd guessed Shaun had guessed he napped on the Animus but last night had been the first night he'd just slept in it the full night.<p>

"Shaun I-

"Its okay," Shaun just said.

"Yeah but-

"You don't have to _explain,_ Desmond," Shaun said. "I understand."

"Do you. Really?"

"I understand nightmares, if nothing else," Shaun said seriously.

"When'd you figure it out?"

"I didn't," Shaun sipped his tea and started up his computer, looking at the screen to make sure the thing turned on. "Hawk told me."

"Hawk?"

"Yeah. He knows."

Desmond hesitated, "Do the others?"

"I don't think so. I think its just me and him."

"Why'd he tell you?"

Shaun grimaced. "Said I'd 'know how to handle it'. Like he figured Rebecca wouldn't have been able to. Altair and Ezio would probably freak and she'd worry her head off about it."

"Oh."

"You might wanna go though. I asked Rebecca to get me something from our room before she came in to work but she shouldn't be long."

Desmond just stared at him for a few seconds. "Right!" Desmond jumped to his feet. "I'll— see you later then," he said awkwardly.

"After breakfast," Shaun said with a bit of a wry smile. "We'll figure out how we're going to handle Toba. Or T'bkan rather."

"Yeah," Desmond nodded slowly. "See you," and then he left. He felt Shaun watch him leave and felt awkward about the entire thing. He hadn't meant for anyone to see him in there. And Hawk knew? How did Hawk know? Best way to find out was to ask him Desmond supposed.

Oh this was going to be a conversation Desmond wasn't going to like.

He found Hawk, with Demeter's help, in one of the computer station rooms. He was looking up at a large, holographic, projection of the globe and doing something on the console. He looked up when Desmond entered.

"Little Bird," he said in greeting.

"Hey Hawk," he said.

"Haven't seen you in a while. How are you feeling?" Desmond grit his teeth and did his best not to grimace. "Fantastic I see," Hawk said, only a bit sarcastically and went back to what he'd been doing.

Desmond went and sat next to him at the console. "You know where I slept last night?"

"No," Hawk said, still not looking at him, "but I can guess."

"How'd you know?"

"Because I know what it's like to be in that situation. Something breaks you and turns you into something else and it's what reminds you of yourself before you were broken," he stopped what he was doing and looked at Desmond. "Its why I still keep my Apple with me. Why I sleep with it."

"You tell Altair, Ezio?"

"I've only told Glasses. I figured it was for the best so he could keep Crane out of the room so you could rest." It took Desmond a moment to realize that Hawk wasn't using Rebecca's last name as a last name, rather it was his weird bird thing. Yet Shaun didn't have a bird name going on. Hawk only gave people he liked those names.

"Why didn't you tell Rebecca. You like her more," Desmond said.

"She worries too much. Last thing _you_ need is another person worrying their head over you. Bad enough Ezio and Altair are doing it. And she feels so bad for what she let happen to you. She wouldn't be able to sleep knowing you sleep in her Animus."

"That's… surprisingly nice of you Hawk," Desmond said.

"I can be nice," Hawk said, offended.

"I know," Desmond said with a grin. "So what are you doing?"

"Looking at the world before Toba," Hawk said.

"Really? Anything interesting?"

Hawk gave him a look, "Yes. But I'm not telling you about any of it until you go have breakfast."

"I did," Desmond lied.

"No you didn't."

"How do you know that?"

"I _know_," Hawk stressed. Desmond pouted at him. "Go eat something and after breakfast we will talk about what is to be done."

Desmond sighed, "Fiiiine. Knowing you you'd tattle to Altair or Ezio I didn't have breakfast."

"You're right. I did," Hawk grinned.

"Did—?"

Like Hawk and Ezio had somehow planned the entire thing the door opened and Ezio strolled in, something almost like a skip in his step and pushing a breakfast cart. He wheeled right up to Hawk's side. "Ah, you were right," Ezio said.

"_Please_ don't tell me you planned this," Desmond practically begged.

"Nah. I always have to come shove breakfast at Hawk. He said he was having company this morning and lookie lookie he was right," Ezio said and gave Desmond an affectionate hair ruffle. "And now I don't have to eat with this boring louse. I can eat with my _infinitely_ more interesting grandson." Ezio was practically beaming at Desmond.

Desmond looked up at Ezio helplessly before he just smiled. He couldn't help it. He forgot how unashamedly upbeat Ezio could be. Even with everything going on. "Yeah well who says I wanna eat with you two old geezers anyway?" Desmond said in the same tone that would imply sticking your tongue out like a four year old and he folded his arms.

"Ah well, you have no choice," Ezio said very seriously. "And its us, or Altair, and you know how Altair is around food," he huffed.

Desmond chuckled. "I'll be honest. The last time I saw Altair eat he picked a fight with Cain and Cain stabbed him in the hand," he said.

"See! My point exactly! Wouldn't you much rather have a nice, relaxing, stress free, breakfast with me and Hawk?" Ezio asked and had a big corny smile on. Desmond softened.

"Yeah. That actually sounds really nice when you put it like that."

"Excellent!" Ezio said and dragged Desmond out of his seat to come see what he'd brought them for breakfast.


	48. Butterfly Knife

In a word; it was Grim. Grim with a capital G.

There was no Toba. There was nothing. Eve had turned it into a crater. She'd been the only one to walk away from the mess, laughing and crying bitterly, crawling from the destruction she'd wrecked upon the world. But there was nothing left there, nothing for _them_. Whatever she'd done had blown a huge hole in the world and wiped out hundreds of thousands to millions of proeathans of the Unified Army in a single moment. It was on the scale of an atomic bomb being dropped. One moment there had been the construct and the Unified Army and the freed angelic choir and then… nothing. The sea had filled the hole and the world forgot.

No one was happy about the news.

After the memory D2 had lived through had played, in as clear a picture as Rebecca could make it, no one said anything. They just sat, looking at the screen.

"Well, we're fucked," Jake finally said. "All that bullshit for _nothing_."

"Told you Eve was a dead end," Cain scoffed.

"Well I didn't see any of _you_ brainiacs coming up with any good ideas," Shaun sniped.

"We'll think of something," Od said.

"Like what? What the hell do we have?" Ezio demanded. "Eve blew the entire thing to Kingdom Come! There's nothing there. We thought it was a fucking astroid impact."

"We'll just do something else then," Od said.

"Like _what_?" Ezio stressed.

"Rebecca," Desmond said, "can you go back, to when Eve entered the construct?"

"Yeah, sure," Rebecca said and by now everyone had stopped arguing. She restarted the memory and ran it through on a higher speed.

"Stop there," Desmond said. Rebecca stopped the memory.

"What is it?" Altair asked.

"I've been there," Desmond said, looking at the screen and the wireframe of the building. Rebecca had been working on full textures but that far back they were lucky to have the wireframe. At the very least she'd added values to the memory so it wasn't such a mess. The construct was a big, ugly, blocky building that was a sort of bent pyramid- only instead of convex the curve was concave, and it was a curve, not a bend- with an ornate door. Based on the memory the inside was hollow and at the center was some sort of pillar Rebecca couldn't render out for some reason, the top open to air.

"What? What do you mean you've been there?" Altair asked.

"Well, I was somewhere _like_ that," Desmond corrected himself. "In the Pacific. I went into it and raised Atlantis. It looks exactly the same as that."

So there are _more_ of these things?" Jake asked. "Great, just what we need: multiple doomsday buildings!"

"They're only doomsday buildings when psychics access them," Desmond said. "Like Eve."

"Like you," Lucy said quietly.

"Eve fucked up," Desmond said and got up from the chair he'd been sitting in and went up to the screen. "Play it," he told Rebecca. He watched the wireframe till Eve came to the pillar. "Stop. This thing here, it can't be rendered. Why not?" he asked Rebecca.

"I don't know," she confessed.

"I know why. I was there. It gives off a psychic noise. Blocks you from remembering what it looks like. I can't remember what the one in the Pacific looks like either really. But I know it was the same. What Eve does next is wrong. She uses the Apple with it. But it doesn't work, as we saw."

"Then what do we use if not an Apple?" Hawk asked.

"_Elaurin_ were the height of our technology," Od put in. "If not them, then what?"

Desmond put his hand on his wrist, covering the black band. It came off in his hand and he showed them. "This," he said. It had formed into a ball now, about the size of a baseball. "I got it in the Pacific construct. Woke up with the damn thing on my wrist after I rose Atlantis."

"Okay. I'm just gonna ask the stupid question so none of you smart people feel stupid: What is it?" Jake said.

"I'm not sure," Desmond admitted and closed his hand. As he did the ball shifted and in an instant it was a perfect, lethally, sharp, knife that fit perfectly in his palm. "A weapon?" he twirled the knife and it became something that had a shape he didn't quite understand but knew what it was for, "A key?" He changed his grip and it became a ping pong board. "Shit, a toy? I have no idea. It just kinda likes me." He relaxed his grip and it slid back around his wrist to become the thick black band once more.

"The Adjatevs took hours to cut it off you," Cain said mildly, like he was commenting on the weather. "They thought it was obsidian, or a black diamond trinket. Idiots were going to throw it away."

"Well what is it?" Jake pressed.

"I don't know," Cain admitted. "I've never seen it before."

"Something you've never seen? Well, I've seen everything," Jake said.

"What about you lot?" Shaun asked Od.

"I've never seen anything like it," he confessed. "Our vessels are metallic our world of metal, stone and _saddrim_. Nothing like that. It's almost as though it's intelligent."

"Vessels are intelligent," Altair pointed out.

"He means like a smart material," Hawk said. "It can change shape at will," he looked at Desmond to make sure that was true. Desmond nodded. "Vessels can't. They're different. Vessels have soul, but that material is smart."

"And no one. Not anyone in this entire room. Not any of you smart or stupidly old people, know what it is?" Jake asked. There was no answer. "Fantastic."

"If Desmond has it it must be important though," and Desmond almost winced. He'd forgotten Andrew was even here. He led the remaining Assassins and those freed humans who'd wanted to join to be part of something other than simply 'the rebellion'. All the leaders were present here. "Even if we don't know what it is. The universe doesn't work on chances. Everything has a path. Not when you black out without something and wake up with something."

"He's got a point," Rebecca said.

"Yeah but why is it? What does it do? What's it for?"

"If I may?" Hera spoke up.

"Go ahead," Desmond said.

"There are transcripts in the old faceless grand libraries on Atlantis," she said. "That recount the legacy of the Sixteen. There is one that says that Jupiter used a black knife upon themself after they returned from _hotai_. It is known as the Godkilling Knife. It was never recovered and instead all that was found was a single, black, ball. The location of the ball is unknown. Apparently it was taken into faceless custody after Jupiter's suicide but...

"But you lost it didn't you?" Desmond said.

"Much like many old things, it was shuffled around and the faceless did lose track of the ball. The ball I believe now is actually the Godkilling Knife, only without the agency of a god to form it it reverted to its original form. A ball."

"That doesn't explain what it is," Shaun wasn't impressed by the story.

"It's a god's tool of course," Hera said, insulted.

"Can we not talk about it like it responds to me cause I'm a god. I'm not," Desmond said.

"For now," was all Od said and Desmond really didn't like the sound of that.

"You ever hear of that story?" Altair asked Od.

"There are many stories of the Sixteen. I am not familiar with all of them. Most are only familiar with the stories of their patrons. Mine is Saturn." He looked to Zorya who'd been sitting there silently the entire time.

"They said Jupiter went mad," she said in her thick accent. "Given power he didn't understand or know how to control. He saw things, visions of destruction and life. He said the stadalla would come, and would burn the world. He went to _hotai_ and returned in madness. When he returned he said he would end the world. Jupiter is a gentle God in our pantheon. He did not rip the world asunder. He instead saved us from himself. He killed himself knowing that otherwise he would destroy us."

"A noble sacrifice," Hera said.

"You would say that," Pluto said bitterly.

"There are many tales of Jupiter. That is just one of them," Zorya added. "The more well known one," she was practically scornful.

"Probably not the one you like him being known for," Hawk said.

"No one likes their patron being remembered as a mad man. At least I was not born under Saturn, or the Twins," her nose wrinkled. Od said nothing. Maybe he even agreed.

"So, we know it's a knife. What else?" Altair asked.

"I have no other records of the blade," Hera said. "Or any blades like it. Nor do the rest of us."

"Unfortunate," Desmond said. "Regardless. It's connected to that building. And if the one in the Pacific is anything like Toba then it can do things. Terrible things. It might also be exactly what we need. Fact is, Toba's gone. But we have this one, an extra. Who the hell gets an extra doomsday building?"

"You would, of course," Jake scoffed. Desmond grinned.

"So what? The plan's gone from 'Toba' to 'doomsday building number two?'" Ezio said.

"Looks like," Desmond said.

"How'd you even get there?" Altair asked.

"I walked. After the ice age the sea level dropped. Originally it was in a cave that was underwater. Sea level dropped and there's about a foot of water all around its atoll now. I could just walk right in."

"How'd it stay hidden?" Shaun said.

"It is literally in the middle of the fucking ocean is why," Desmond said.

"... Then how'd you get there?"

"Took a numia. It lasted long enough to get me there and to the mainland again from Artemis. Then it broke."

"I should point out it barely got you to Japan," Artemis said. "You're lucky it didn't crash into the sea half way from the atoll."

"It didn't. So what's it matter," Desmond said.

"Something you left out in your tale," Altair practically growled.

"What? I wasn't gonna tell you about all the times I nearly died. Doesn't matter, I'm alive now. Moving on. We can get to the thing in the Pacific."

"Which is where exactly?"

"Here," Mercury took control of the room and brought up a holographic globe. It zoomed in on the middle of the ocean and then high lightened a tiny island. A flag appeared next to it showing the longitude and latitude.

"We can fly there," Lucy said.

"We're not doing anything without seeing what's waiting for us," Altair said. "Didn't you say it sent out a beacon from raising Atlantis? If that's true than the proeathans know its there. They could be waiting for us."

"There and Atlantis?" Desmond asked.

"People who are at the end of the line are the most dangerous. Humans and proeathans aren't that different. They know we have you, or at least that you're free. They're going to be doing everything in their power to make sure you never get an upper hand. If that means splitting their forces, so be it. They know if they lose this time they lose for real. There's no hiding away this time. They're backed into a corner by you as much as humans are by them."

"Do or die," Ezio agreed.

"Well. We better get started then," Desmond said. "The construct rose Atlantis, and blew up creating an EMP. We know it can do some crazy stuff. Could cut is a path to Atlantis. Before I blacked out I sensed a huge amount of power in the construct and that what I was seeing was only a small part of the entire thing sort of like the proeathan 'temples' we've been finding for centuries."

"What do you want to do?" Altair asked.

"Od will send a scout out. This won't be like the mine. I want them to fly high and only observe. I also want some humans with them. Some of our new Vision users. Proeathans don't empathetically see the same way we do. But if what you said is right then we'll probably have to fight to get in. We'll go from there when the scout comes back. Sound good?"

No one spoke a moment, "Not the worst plan I've ever heard," Cain said. Coming from the ancient that meant a lot since Cain constantly criticized Desmond for not having any plan or a shitty one. "Abel has had much worse than that."

"Fuck off Cain," Altair growled. Cain just winked at Altair.

"Od," Desmond turned to the Ando.

Od was frowning. "It will be done. After the events at the mine I do not like the idea of sending my people into more danger but... I see what must be done," he sighed.

"Good. We'll start immediately. I want a numia out of Demeter in three hours. Chose your men or volunteers, I don't care. I want the crew to have at least three Vision seers. Ezio, you'll be picking the humans to accompany Od's scout." Ezio nodded. Desmond didn't know what else to say. "That's all we can do for now. Let's get to work."

* * *

><p>Everyone's been so quiet lately...<p> 


	49. Albireo

Desmond met his clone in their room. D2 was sitting against the wall staring at nothing. When Desmond close the door he started and his eyes focused on Desmond. D2 got to his feet and moved further from Desmond than before.

"Relax, I'm not here to hurt you," Desmond said.

"Yeah. Fuck you," D2 growled.

Desmond didn't take his bait. "How bad is it?"

"You _know_ how bad it is," D2 hissed. "You only have two. You can ignore them. I can _hear them_. All the time."

Desmond felt bad at the same time he did feel bad. "I'm sorry."

"Spare me your pity."

"I don't-

"You do. You pity me. I hate it. I hate pity. You hate pity. Don't be to me what the others are to you. I don't appreciate it."

Desmond stood there a moment. "You're right. I'm sorry for pitying you."

"Better," D2 said in a short, angry, tone. "Now what do you want?"

"I just came to tell you that," he'd come here to lie. He'd come to tell D2 that his sacrifice had meant something. That the ghosts and voices in his head had led them to victory. That his Bleeding was worth it. Despite the block Cain had given D2 he still Bled. He was overflowing like Clay had been. Too many ghosts and no block could hold back that tide. Standing here now, face to face with himself, Desmond couldn't. He couldn't _lie_ to himself like that anymore. "Eve was a dead end."

D2 turned away, "Motherfucker," he cursed. "So you killed me. For nothing," he smiled but it hurt and folded his arms tightly across his chest. D2 looked about to cry. "I'm dead. And I wasn't even useful." He sniffed once. "Not unexpected from the clone of a useless jerk like you I guess."

"We've got a plan though."

"Great," D2 said, without heat or hate.

"And we have no use for you now." D2 glared at him. "So I have no reason to keep you under lock and key anymore. Your cooperation is no longer required."

D2 was slow on the uptake and then he stared at Desmond. "What?"

Behind Desmond the door opened. "I don't need you anymore. I figure, you're going to die soon anyway. Either your brain's going to shut down, or you're going to commit suicide like Clay did to stop the voices. So long as you're peaceful, you can move around Demeter as you want."

"You're joking," D2 said.

"No. I'm not. My AI will be watching your every move though. Don't stick out, don't cause a scene, keep it together as long as you can. So long as you don't do something stupid, you can do what you want. If you do, you'll be right back here until I feel too guilty about keeping you alive as you start to break down and mercy kill you." D2 swallowed.

D2 was Desmond, he knew there was a catch. Rules. Desmond had all sorts of rules about new lives he lived. Kept it interesting. Like he couldn't live as the same name twice. Or he couldn't move back to old neighborhoods. He had to talk to homeless people. This time he was going to date a man, or that time a girl. This life he was going to learn a skill, play an instrument. Something so he had something else to do than work out and go to work so he didn't go insane. It became a game, sort of like a puzzle he had to complete before he started to feel uncomfortable in a place and decided it was time to leave.

"And?" D2 asked.

"You can't talk to me, or Lucy, or any of my friends. Get your own fucking life. Come up with a new name. You can't go by Desmond. That's me. At night you need to come back here. This is your designated room, same as everyone else's. Do _not_ try to play my AI. They won't listen to you. Demeter doesn't like even people touch her things, or mess with her gardens. Don't be an idiot about it. She will lock you in your room the same she does to anyone who makes her angry or decides to hurt her plants or animals. Understand?"

"Basically, don't be a dick, don't talk to you, ever, and come home for bed."

"Easy, right?" Desmond said.

"I dunno. I'm you, and you're a dick. It might be a challenge."

"I'm trying to be nice here. Don't make me regret it, buddy."

"Fine," D2 shrugged. "Do the others know?"

"No."

"Which is why you don't want them to know."

"Altair's ready to put you out of your misery now that you're no longer useful. Ezio and Hawk are in agreement. I said I felt bad for you, so you aren't dead now. If you prove to be a liability for us I will let them do what they think they should."

D2 was quiet a moment. "How about Phil? We always kinda liked Phil," D2 said.

Desmond didn't even miss a beat. "You don't look like a Phil."

"No. I guess now. Randy?" Desmond shook his head. "Randy's are bigger dicks than you anyway," D2 scoffed. "Hmmm. Tom?"

"You could be a Tom," Desmond agreed. "At least it isn't Jack or John."

"Pffft, I'm not that fucking lame," D2 smirked.

"Yeah you are," Desmond said.

"So is that all, Desmond?"

Desmond looked around the little room, then back at D2. "Yeah, I guess so. Have fun Tommy. Don't get in trouble."

"I'll try." Desmond nodded and then left. He was getting into the lift down the hall and he could see D2 easing out of his room to make sure it wasn't a trick. As the door closed he saw D2 step fully into the hallway with a smile. Desmond felt a bit less heavy as he left him there.


	50. A Storm of Storks

Desmond was meditating in one of Demeter's gardens. It was about as close as he could get to sleep. As soon as he slept he slipped somewhere else. He didn't really 'sleep' anymore so much as he rested. Rested his brain mainly. Sleeping led to dreamsharing and Desmond still wasn't terribly good at that yet. He sometimes went to the place the AI consciousnesses were and saw the pitiful star scape of humanity but he quickly woke from that. The lucid dreaming wasn't much better since it was less lucid dreaming and more lucid nightmares.

Meditating allowed him to rest and also stay alert. He was a fucking psychic, he could do psychic things. That was about as good as he could describe some of the things he did. He could do things proeathans could and couldn't do. Things humans couldn't do. He liked monitoring everyone in Demeter via the Ellderin Third Eye _sikaz_.

Every human was a little wisp of bright smoke, curled and coiled. They shimmered like distant stars of a night sky's background. The Ilythians were slightly brighter and moved in different shapes. They reminded desmond of ents from the Lord of the Rings movie he'd seen. They were tall, long and narrow with stilted legs and bodies that were constantly caught in a wind. The humans weren't blown back. They stayed in their skins.

There were brighter stars too. Cain was a nova that blocked an entire portion of Demeter from Desmond's sight. He was a sun and Desmond always kept his third eye focused elsewhere. Altair, Ezio, Hawk, and Jake were crisp, bright, stars. His ancestors shown brighter than Jake. Desmond could look at them, they didn't blind him.

The oddest of the things Desmond could see were the humans and Ilythians who shown brightly but weren't anyone in particular. There were only a few of them. Like Desmond they shown and twinkled in his mind's eye. Unlike him wisps of their light scattered away from them. Where Desmond's little 'solar flares' stayed in his skin theirs arced away and influenced things around them. Sometimes they'd touch another pale wisp and for a moment the wisp glowed stronger.

"Desmond, the scout had returned from the Pacific," Demeter said.

Desmond opened his eyes slowly and yawned. He felt more rested, which was good. He rubbed his eyes and what he'd seen through the Third Eye faded. He just did it to relax, the way the wisps moved reminded him of food coloring in a water tank with the gentlest current. What he saw wasn't important.

"We meeting at the main comm room?" Desmond groaned and got to his feet, half shambling to the door.

"Yes, Desmond."

"Great. Fuck, what time is it?"

"Four in the morning," Demeter said.

"Fuuuck, okay. I'm on my way. Get Altair, Ezio, Od. That's it. I want the head of Ilythian and human from the mission as well."

"No Cain?"

"No. He can hear what happened in the morning," he left the room. As he did his hand trailed along the wall. He left glowing marks in his wake. For once he was going without wearing the full black get-up. He wore just a t-shirt and pants. Demeter was dim this time of night and Desmond lit his own way to a lift.

"Ezio complained," she said.

"Don't care," Desmond said, poking the lift controls to get to where he needed to go. The lift took him away. By the time the lift stopped Desmond was awake and alert. "They there?"

"Od is on his way as are the scouts, they'll meet you there. Altair and Ezio are waiting."

"Good," and Desmond opened the door. The 'round table' was considerably more empty than before they'd sent the scouts. "Morning," he said.

"Jake sends his complaints," was all Altair said.

"Jake can literally go suck a dick," Desmond said as he fell into one of the chairs.

"I'll tell him that."

"I'm sure you will," Desmond did his best leer and Altair met it. At least for a few seconds before turning away, biting his lips to keep a smile down.

"I hate you," Ezio greeted him. "I was mid dream."

"You'll have others," Desmond promised him.

"Bleeehg," Ezio complained. "I don't know why you couldn't just have Altair come here. He probably wasn't even sleeping and just watching Jake sleep like a fucking weirdo."

"What I do with Jake is one hundred percent my own business," Altair said blandly.

"Weirrrdo," Ezio said again.

"What are you smiling at?" Altair asked.

"Nothing."

"Yeah huh."

"Just. Glad you finally came out of the closet gramps," Desmond grinned cheekily. There was a second of silence broken up by Ezio's ridiculously loud laughter that only people of Spanish and Italian heritage were able to really convey.

"Shut up, kid," Altair growled. "You too!" he snapped at Ezio. That just made Ezio laugh harder. "I'm putting you Under if you don't knock it off!"

"Yeah, sure," Ezio giggled.

"What's going on in here?" Od's voice asked as the door opened. He was followed by an Ilythian man and human woman.

"Nothing," Desmond said, smiling.

"This is Magni, he commanded the scouting expedition," Od said.

"_Stadalla, it is an honor,_" Magni saluted Desmond.

"And you?" Desmond asked the woman.

"She's one of mine," Ezio said. "Laura commands one of the minutemen platoons."

"Sir," she nodded at the three of them.

"Alright. Lets talk about what you've seen," Desmond said. The three new comers took a seat.

"_I have video and images of the site and construct,_" Magni said.

"_Can you speak English, Magni_?" Desmond asked.

_"No. Apologies for the linguistic nightmare this might be_."

Desmond sighed, _"Its alright_. _Show us what you saw_."

Magni brought of a cube that looked a lot like the millennium cube Hawk had taken from Venus years ago. Only it was smaller. He put it on the table and one of the AI accessed it. They started playing what was on the cube.

"Ah shit," Ezio said.

"Like I said," Altair said.

The atoll in the middle of the ocean was only a few hundred meters across and was pure rock and sand. It looked like the peak of a mountain. Proeathans had set up base on the atoll and in the shallow water surrounding it. There were several hundred to a few thousand on the atoll. As they watched a numia from off screen landed on the atoll and opened. A bipedal machine walked itself out of the numia.

"The fuck is that?" Ezio demanded.

"Storks," Od said. "They were cutting edge tech before our fall. We'd only just really learned to create them. Had we had a few more decades to really use them we'd have fared better in the War."

"Thankfully for us, you didn't," Laura said bitterly.

"You knew they had this? Do you have this?" Altair demanded.

"Yes, and no," Od apologized. "To pilot a stork you need to be a specially trained psychic, much like a numia pilot. Most of the Adjatev stork pilots were killed during the events at Toba. I didn't realize they had any left."

"Or they trained up some new ones," Laura said.

"It takes more than five years to learn to pilot a stork-

"Humans learned to fly numia in ten days. I think some even more advanced fuck-wads like you can learn to pilot a god damn gundam in five years."

Od scowled at Laura. "_Please tell your woman to watch herself_."

"And don't talk about me like I'm not here," Laura said. "Had about enough of that with Magni and his men acting like we didn't know they were talking about us in their gibber jabber for thirty-six hours."

"I like her," Desmond declared with a wide grin.

"Now you see why she leads the minutemen," Ezio chuckled. "Laura. A little less huh? You're making them uncomfortable."

"Good."

"C'mon girl. Dial it down a little."

She huffed. "Yes sir."

"So what else?" Desmond asked Laura and then repeated it for Magni, who was fully lost amid all the English.

"Its just a lot more of this, sirs," Laura said. "They were bringing in reinforcements from the east and west. You're gonna see a lot more of stuff you don't like but the most dangerous is the storks and the smaller numia." Od was muttering to Magni the entire time, translating for the pilot. "They got guns on the numia and things like helicopters, but different. And lots of soldiers."

"All on that little atoll?" Altair asked.

"No sir," she panned the camera and showed the ocean. There were ships. Big ones.

_"The fleet here can house sixteen hundred proeathans and supplies_," Magni said. "_And there was an equally large fleet of kraken ships on the other side of the atoll_."

"_So we're looking at over three thousand troops?_" Magni nodded. "Three thousand troops," Desmond said.

"What the hell are we gonna do?" Ezio asked.

"Did you see the construct?" Desmond asked.

"No, sir," Laura said. "It's still underground."

"Good. Then they haven't dug it out."

They sat in silence while Desmond thought. "So, what's the plan now?" Ezio asked.

"Well. We're fucked," Desmond said. "They outnumber us. Any attack we push on the construct will be met with resistance. Its suicide."

"Then why don't you look worried?" Altair asked uneasily.

"We're going anyway," Desmond said. "This time I'm going."

"Desmond-

"_This isn't a debate_," Desmond told Altair in Arabic. "_I am going. I need to be there. You can't protect me forever. I'm not a kid anymore_." Altair sighed but didn't argue.

"Then at least don't go alone," Altair said. "Bring back up. Or something."

"Fine," Desmond said. "I'll take proeathans and humans. We need to be a unified front for this. Not to mention proeathans can better protect humans against proeathans and humans fighting will be a surprise to the proeathans at the atoll."

"You wish to send my men?" Od asked.

"This is what you joined the cause for, Od," Desmond said. "You brought your people to help me. Well, you've been doing a whole lot of fucking nothing since you got here. Now it's time to pay the piper."

"Or the devil," Ezio said quietly.

"Whatever fancy euphemism you wanna use. Regardless. Now's the time you came here for. This and Atlantis is what you're here for. Time to pay up.

I'll select all of the members of his mission. Volunteers only. This is a suicide run. I want English speakers only from both sides. I can't be having mixed signals or linguistic confusion during the preparation of or during the mission. We clear?"

"Yes," Ezio said, nodding.

"Ezio, Od, I want dossiers of all volunteers sent to me. I'll review them. Od, I want you to screen your people. Don't let jackasses into my mission. I will kick their asses and kick them out and I don't wanna deal with the mopiness humiliated Ilythians are. English speakers only, and try and give me more than just your standard future seers. Ezio, only people with Eagle Vision."

"Got it," Ezio said.

"I understand," Od said slowly.

"Great. Good talk everyone. Get some rest and we'll start in the morning. Hopefully we can have some good candidates by the end of the day." With that Desmond got up. Everyone else stood and they left. Desmond stood there a bit longer, watching the video of the atoll. "Artemis," he said.

"Yes, Desmond."

"This construct is the same from Toba isn't is?"

"As far as we can tell."

"How did you know to take me there?"

"Because the end of the world happened at one of those places last time. We figured it'd be a good place to start."

"Its not proeathan."

"No," she agreed.

"Then what is it?"

There was a pregnant silence. "We don't know."


	51. Gyre

Okay, last one for today. Hope you're ready for some easter egg feels!

* * *

><p>While Desmond was looking over the dossiers of the candidates for the mission the room's door opened. He looked up when a man walked in. He was tall and had fantastic hair though it was totally grey. He looked strangely familiar to Desmond but he couldn't place why. For a second Desmond wondered if he'd been one of Desmond's friend-acquaintances while out and about but he didn't think so. He was too old. His father's age, maybe older. Though unlike Andrew this man was still fit and looked dangerous. Now Desmond knew he'd never met him before, the man was an Assassin.<p>

"Can I help you?" Desmond asked.

"No," the man said. "But I can help you. My name's John. Nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Desmond," he held his hand out. Desmond shook it.

"What can you do for me, John?" Desmond asked a bit cheekily.

"I'd like to volunteer for your mission."

"What was your last name? I have all the candidates here," Desmond indicated his station.

"Smith," John said.

"Really?"

"Really," John said and Desmond didn't prod at that lie any more. "You won't find me in there. I'm not part of Demeter's leadership."

"Well this mission is only open to ranked members with Eagle Vis- okay," Desmond nodded when John showed he could do it.

"I'm sure you can guess. I'm an Assassin, and not Andrew's favorite person. I'm highly qualified for this mission, more than the kids our would-be Mentor surrounds himself with at any rate," he scoffed.

"That's my father," Desmond said.

"I know. I'm sorry," he added and that seemed so odd to Desmond but he couldn't really place what was so weird.

"Why do you want to come? You're kinda old don't you think?"

"My own reasons. My entire life has been dedicated to protecting all the people in the world from corruption and destruction. I'm tired of being impotent."

"You realize it's a suicide mission right?"

"I do. All Assassins are prepared to die for their cause."

Desmond rubbed his mouth. "I dunno, John. No offense but, you're old," he apologized.

"So are our generals," John said. "Doesn't stop them."

Desmond paused a moment to determine if John knew or if he was fishing. After looking in his eyes Desmond knew John knew. "Who told you?"

"No one. I was there at the plantations. I watched Altair go down at the hands of Cain. You don't walk away from a broken neck without something fantastic wrong with you. Wasn't too hard to figure out after that. They talk about the past like the present and the future like it'll never come. I put two and two together. Wasn't too hard, I got a thing for puzzles."

Desmond was grinning a little. "Me too," he admitted and he saw John almost seem to say 'I know'. "I dunno John," Desmond admitted.

"I'm more experienced in leading people than most of your officers," he said. "Please. Let me help."

Desmond frowned, but not in a bad way. "Okay. You're in. None of the other volunteers sought me out. How'd you even find me?"

"You're like the only yellow thing in this entire place. Wasn't that hard," John said.

"I see," Desmond said slowly. "We'll talk again John. I still need to make decisions on who else to bring along."

"Yes. Of course, sir. I'll wait for you to call." John saw himself out. Well that was kinda weird. Not in a bad way perhaps, but still kinda weird. Desmond went back to the dossiers.

—

Two days later Desmond was waiting for the people he'd selected for the suicide mission. He'd chosen forty-five of the three hundred volunteers. Twenty three humans and twenty two proeathans. He was waiting in one of the big training rooms of Demeter.

The first person came in. It wasn't who he expected. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to volunteer," Lucy said. She had her short hair held back by a headband and wore comfortable clothes that were sort of skin tight. Desmond could see her muscles through the material and Desmond thought she looked pretty hot.

"I'm not taking any," he said.

"Too bad. Here I am," she said

"This isn't a game," he said.

"I know. I am very aware this isn't a game. But I've got about two years left to live and I'll be damned if I let you tell me I can't try and save my world."

Desmond looked at her helplessly. "You're probably going to die."

"Then I'll die fighting and not waiting around hoping its painless. Also, these people probably know me. I'm their 'Angel of the Lake'. They don't know you, but they'll follow me into hell."

Desmond frowned deeply at her. "Okay," he sighed. She smiled brightly at him. "This doesn't change anything about us," he added.

"Good. I hope it wouldn't. I just am tired of being reactive and am ready to be proactive in this war."

"Okay."

"Don't look so upset you get to fight with a cute girl Desmond," she teased.

"Jake isn't secretly coming too is he?" he asked.

"No. Not that he didn't want to when I told him I was. Altair told him absolutely not, or something."

"Being his usual controlling self," Altair sighed.

"I think it was more that Altair didn't want Jake to undermine your authority. The troops know him too. They would have questioned you had he been here."

"So he's not here for my benefit. That's a first," Desmond said, brows going up a little. "And won't you undermine my authority?"

"I'm not here to lead. I want you to treat me like anyone else. No special treatment. Got it?"

"Perfect. Cause I has no intention of giving you any special treatment Stillman." Lucy smiled at that. "Go sit over there. That's where I'm having everyone meet," he motioned. She obediently went and sat in one of the collections of chairs Desmond had set up.

They waited and slowly people started to trickle in. First just a few and then groups of them until all forty-five were there. Well, forty six now. He'd wanted only forty-four, so with him they were forty five. Now they were forty seven. What a weird fucking number.

"Hello everyone," Desmond said once they were all here. "I'm Desmond, the commander and leader for this mission. You will refer to me as 'sir' or stadalla while you're here. I know Ezio or Od has told you the short of this mission. That its probably suicide. It is. But you volunteered anyway. For that you have mine, and everyone else's on this ark's, gratitude. Bravery like what you all displayed can't be bought or trained.

"Our goal in this mission is this atoll in the middle of the Pacific." One of the AI, he didn't know who, pulled up the map and video footage from the scout side by side. "As you can see its crawling with Adjectevs. Our mission takes us there and right into the thick of it. We're after a construct located under the atoll. This is a rough representation of the construct." The valued wireframe of the construct appeared next to the map and video in midair. "If any of you are having reservations now that you see the full scope of what we're up against I don't be upset if you leave.

"It is very likely some or most of you will die. I want you to know that. Of course I'd love nothing more than all of you to make it through the reality is that that isn't going to happen. If you want to leave, do so now."

Desmond waited. No one got up. "Okay," he said. "From this point on there is no backing out. We're in this together.

"Now, by a show of hands, who here knows anyone else here?" A few of them raised their hands. "Now I want you to look to your left and your right. The person sitting next to you is probably a stranger. Before we leave for this mission they're going to be like your brothers and sisters and you'll know them as well as the brothers and sisters I'm sure some of you have lost." There were many faults of the Assassins. One of them was not making people feel like part of a family. Even though Desmond had hated it at the Farm he'd known everyone and felt comfortable with them, like he could talk to them. The few kids were his friends and all the adults like aunts and uncles.

"I've read your dossiers. I know, vaguely, what you are all capable of. But now we're going to see, for real, what you can do and how you work as a unit. All of us will be working together. If anyone isn't pulling their weight I'll know. Now," Demeter retracted their chairs and everyone was forced to stand. "This is Demeter's favorite garden," the wall was pulled back like a curtain and revealed a huge field of grass. "Pretty huh?" There were a few agreeing noises. "I brought someone to help you guys warm up and keep an eye on you." Pluto and Artemis appeared. They both wore military body armor, their hair pulled back away from their faces.

"Hi," Artemis waved at them. The Ilythians seemed wary but the humans didn't. The AI were nothing but friendly and nice to them up to this point. "I'm Artemis. This is Pluto. Desmond's asked us to start your training. I'm going to start you off easy before I let Pluto get you. We're just going to do stretches. So everyone come out to the field." Artemis turned and walked out into the field. Everyone followed. Desmond picked up the rear. He was just observing now. Artemis and Pluto would handle the first day of training. Desmond wanted to see what these people were made of, how hard he could push before they cracked.

Artemis took them through a warm up and stretching routine. Doing it with them with a smile on her face. They were all in great shape and flexible. None of them had any problems with that, but Desmond expected that.

After a good half hour of warming up Pluto came forward. "On the other side of this garden is an obstacle course. You are going to run across that garden and complete the obstacle course."

"Remember. You're a team," Desmond said before they started. "These people are your new best friends."

"Those who fail to complete the course will be required to run laps," Pluto said unsympathetically.

"How many laps?" someone asked.

"However many I decide," Pluto said. "Any questions?" No one did. "Good. Go!" he barked. Everyone took off. The Ilythians quickly outpaced most of the humans. Desmond jogged behind. "Too bad about them," Pluto said, casually floating next to him.

"They'll get it," Desmond said.

"Not this time. Ah, I love making people run laps. Reminds me of when I was a sergeant," Pluto said merrily and floated further ahead.

Desmond met up with the platoon while they were in the middle of the obstacle course. Some of the Ilythians had trouble here since they were taller and the course had been designed with human height in mind so they wouldn't needlessly struggle. A few humans overtook the Ilythians and that boosted the other humans. Soon most of the humans were ahead of the Ilythians. Desmond sighed and put his chin on his palm, holding onto the arm by the elbow. This wasn't going to do.

About half way he, as sort of expected, saw John lagging behind. John was a grandpa, no shit he was probably tired from this. Great shape he might have been in he was still old. He failed a vault and then just stood there looking at it like it was its fault he'd just messed up. He'd been way ahead too which was a shame. Younger people quickly overtook him, jumping three feet to grab the top of the wall and yank themselves up.

The only person who stopped was Lucy. He couldn't hear what they said from here but they did talk. John nodded and then quite easily picked Lucy up to help her reach the top of the wall. She then hung over the side and held her hand out. John took it and she helped pull him up. John finished the wall like that.

He saw another pair further along. Two Ilythians who were staring at a platform that was uneven. You had to have good balance or quick movements to get across it. A bunch of people made it to the platform and just fell off, not expecting that it'd dump them. Artemis was in the pit it dropped them in with some encouraging words and showing them to the ladder where they could try again. Other people just sprinted across the very middle.

Then the two Ilythian moved at the same time, perfectly in sync and with sure steps walked across the platform. On the other side they fist bumped and continued on. Desmond smiled at that. Seemed they all didn't fail.

"Pluto," Desmond said. The ex-general was there instantly.

"Yes?"

"Who were those two Ilythians?"

"Mmm, Baldur and Thor I believe."

"Siblings?"

"No. Why?"

Desmond chuckled, "In norse mythos, that seems to be based off the Ilythians, Baldur and Thor were siblings. Thor the god of thunder, Baldur was god of peace. Those two aren't related?"

"No," Pluto said.

"That the same Baldur I fought the other day? The dossiers didn't have pictures."

"Yes."

"Ah, good. I liked her. Her, Thor, Lucy, and John are the only ones who passed. Everyone else failed this."

"I saw," Pluto agreed.

"That's all," Desmond said. He was standing at the end of the obstacle course. His platoon was gathering as they completed it, most were out of breath and bent over their knees.

Pluto waited until everyone had finished before appearing next to Desmond. "That was awful," Pluto said.

"B-but we completed the co-course," someone panted.

"Yes. But you all failed. Everyone except Vizün, Sabbr, Stillman, and Smith will run six laps around the garden. Vizün, Sabbr, Stillman, Smith, you may rest while your fellows run."

"What! How did we fail and they didn't? We completed the course just the same as them," someone complained. They were a man about Desmond's age with a buzzed head and an angry face. He could have been handsome.

"Because they're the only ones who took what I said and went through with it," Desmond said. "I told you. These people are your family now. Ilythian, human, you're brothers and sisters now. Instead of acting like you Ilythians ran ahead of the humans, leaving them behind. None of you helped each other when another struggled. Except in two instances did I see teamwork. Stillman stopped to help Smith when he struggled with the wall and Vizün and Sabbr completed the unstable platform by working together."

"So Stillman gets out of this cause he helped an old man who couldn't even complete the course himself?" they continued.

Desmond remained calm, "What's your name again, son?"

"Jackson Johnson, sir," he said. Desmond cleared his throat so he didn't laugh. His parents hated him. That was the only explanation. The guy had a pre-made porn name.

"Stillman, Smith, would you like to say something to Johnson here?"

"I would, sir," Lucy said. Everyone turned and Johnson turned dead white. He knew who she was. A few people were surprised to see her and some looked worried but all of them were in awe. "Fucking bite me."

"And watch your manners. I'm old, but not too old I can't throw you over my knee," John said. That made a few people laugh.

"Next time I'll help you. Then you can get your ass beat by my boyfriend and helped by me," Lucy sneered. Desmond wanted to know the story behind that one. Johnson went from white to bright red in humiliation.

"Enough," Desmond said. "All of you except the four mentioned are doing laps. Now go. The sooner you finish the sooner we can move on to something you can't cheat." The platoon moved off as a group. "Don't forget this time!" Desmond called after them. "Keep an eye on them Artemis."

"Yessir!" she said enthusiastically and bounded after them like a deer.

Desmond turned to the four remaining. "We wouldn't have failed even if we hadn't made it," Thor said.

"No," Desmond said. "This was a test to see how well you worked together. They all failed. You two weren't much better," he gave Thor and Baldur a look. "Running ahead with the others."

"We'll do better next time, _stadalla_, promise," Baldur said.

"I hope so."

"Well, I'm glad to rest," John said. "Maybe you were right, I'm too old," he huffed and sat.

"You did fine," Desmond said. "I know men older than you who can do that course just fine."

"Yeaaaah but I'm not them," John smiled and Desmond felt weird deja vu. He couldn't place why and it bothered him. "Thanks for helping me, young lady," he added to Lucy.

"My pleasure. I hate running," she grimaced and sat next to him. John chuckled. "What are we doing after they finish their run, sir?" she asked.

"Well because you're all _sooo_ good at making friends, we're going to do ice breakers."

"Uhg! Seriously. I hated those in college."

"Well we wouldn't have to if you could work together!" Desmond said. Lucy and Baldur both giggled.

"They'll figure it out," Pluto said, not present except for voice.

"I hope so. I hate ice breakers too," Desmond said.

"What's an ice breaker?" Baldur asked.

"You'll see," Desmond promised.

"By the Angel's face I don't think I want to," she said slowly.

"Well you will anyway," Desmond said. Baldur grimaced and she and Thor traded worried looks. Desmond sat on the grass with Lucy and John and the Ilythians followed suit while they waited for everyone else to finish their laps.


	52. Flowerpecker

Shit... been a while. Writing slumps suck huh? Well not really a slump. Just been writing a lot of katair I can't share yet oops

Also food for thought: FM and 17th chapter 50 marked the start of the final chapters of that part of the story. OTT is at chapter 50 and we've still got a good third of the story to go yet!

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><p>Desmond watched his men disapprovingly. Getting humans and proeathans to work together wasn't as bad as teaching cats to play fetch but it was pretty close. Even though these proeathans were about as open minded as Od could find and Desmond had approved they still looked down on the humans and the humans hated the proeathans for destroying their world. A verbal fight broke out at least once a day. After a week Desmond had had quite enough of the entire thing.<p>

He was sitting in front of his men, looking pensive. They waited at parade rest for him to tell them to be at ease or give instruction. He'd just showed up today and they'd done this, as they did every day now. He'd sat down and let them stew.

"You're all useless," he said after a while. "Even the ones I like. You're all fucking useless."

"Desmond, don't be so mean," Artemis said.

Desmond grunted as he got to his feet. "Rodriguez," he said to one of the humans, a big Mexican with black eyes and a charming smile when he felt like smiling. "Why are you so so fucking useless?" he meant it in reference to the entire platoon, not just him. It was partially rhetorical but he also wanted to see what the man would say. Rodriguez wasn't a good talker though and didn't have an answer for him. "Johnson," he turned his attention to the problematic dick in his platoon who always had a smart comment. "I can see you wanting to answer. Get it over with and spit it out."

"Because humans and proeathans don't work together," he sneered.

"Partial points. Fel," he turned to one of the Ilythians. "Why the hell do you all suck _so_ much?"

"Humans have difficulty keeping up with us-

"Wrong answer. Sabbr," he asked Baldur.

"Because we don't want to," she said.

"Wow. A smart answer at last. Amazing. Only took you all four shots," he rolled his eyes at them. "Fact is. You all suck because you want to suck. And if you suck then you're worthless to me. I'm honestly about to just throw in the towel and start with new volunteers. Johnson, you say humans can't work with proeathans; Fel, that humans can't keep up. Both wrong as fuck answers. I trained with _etji_a_ð _master Magni and learned and kept up with him and even kicked his ass once or twice. For the humans in the group, imagine I got personally trained by Jet Lee and then had the honor of beating him once.

"You all suck because you want to suck. And right now you're doing no one a favor, especially your own species. I don't want to hear this bullshit of 'humans aren't as good', 'we can't work together', 'proeathans are shitty', 'humans can't keep up.' Its an excuse. A shitty excuse and I'm tired of it. We're running _out _of time. The growing and harvest season for the Adjatevs is going to be over soon and we have until then to make something out of you.

"Instead you're all here fighting with each other. Bullshit. Get the fuck over yourselves. All of you. Right now you're all fucking useless and hurting our cause and might be the reason the Adjatevs _win_ in the end.

"You're all dismissed. I don't want to see another fucking one of you until you've decided you can not be worthless to me. Cause right now you're all worthless and weak." He ran his hand through his short hair and stepped back and away. "Go think about it. I'll be here tomorrow," and he walked off. He heard them talking in hushed voices as he did so but Desmond didn't have time for them today. He had his own plans now. He was basically their baby sitter and he couldn't do that. He needed soldiers who'd act like it. He couldn't hold their hands till they got over their prejudices.

He left the grass garden and headed for Venus. "Was that necessary? You were so mean," Artemis said.

"I don't have the luxury of kindness," Desmond said. "I have a war to win and a limited time table. They're slowing us down."

"You could have been nicer," she said.

"I thought it was a good speech," Pluto put in as he got to the lift. He got in one on his own and turned to see people leaving the garden. "Reminds me of myself."

"I don't know if that's a good or bad thing."

"I was the greatest general in a hundred generations," Pluto said. "And led the Unified Army of proeathans against the human rebellion."

"And yet you lost," Desmond said.

"I didn't lose. I was murdered and forced here."

"Don't say it like that," Artemis whined.

"I say it like it is. We were all murdered. I just have the misfortune of knowing who and what I was. I know everything except my own name."

"You don't know Artemis?" Desmond asked.

"Some of us prefer not to know when we learned of the nature of our fate," she admitted. "I don't want to know what I lost. I'm not unhappy now and knowledge is a burden."

"Cain says the same thing."

"Cain can be wise," Pluto said.

"When he wants to be," Mercury cut in. "He's still a stupid hybrid who only understands proeathans on a base level and acts like he knows fucking everything. Not to mention he's one of those fucking Drell," he growled.

"You don't like Drell?" Desmond asked.

"Mercury had a Lesh'va'rin mother. They and the Drell were at war constantly even while we fought against the humans," Pluto said.

"So I take it he remembers?" Desmond asked.

"Mhm."

"I thought the Adjatevs only took from their own people," Desmond said.

"Yeah well when they had someone like me in the world they couldn't _help_ themselves," Mercury said and he could imagine his child-like visage sneering. "I used to be a great psychic you know. One of the best! Then they kidnapped me, killed me, and made me into… this."

"And yet you decide to look like your younger self," Morpheus said in his echoey tone. "And not the _'great'_ psychic you used to be."

"Fuck off star boy. You weren't even useful. Still aren't."

"Stop," Desmond said and they all fell silent. "Do not fight amid each other. Bad enough my men fight between each other."

"They're just bitter," Venus said in Altair's voice. The lift door opened and Desmond went to his seldom used room.

"No shit I am. What they did to us- Its disgusting."

"Humiliating," Demeter agreed in her lofty voice.

Desmond opened the door of his room. The AI partaking in the conversation all took a visual form at once. He liked to look at them when they spoke but talking to them in the hallway could get awkward since he was supposed to be no one in the ark. No ones didn't have face to face conversations with the ark holograms. Half of them wore battle armor, their hair pushed back or 'cut' short, the other half in their version of a uniform, though none of them wore shoes. Venus wore Altair's face of the first time Desmond had seen him die and it tingled his brain in a way he didn't like. She was doing it on purpose and he didn't appreciate it. He didn't comment on it though. He'd scold her later in private for it.

"Humiliating?" Desmond asked and sat on the comfortable chair, taking off his boots. He'd had another restless night and Rebecca had taken apart part of the Animus to upgrade it. No sleeping there and the meditation was a poor substitute for real sleep when you had such an active mind as Desmond's.

"Oh yes. Turning us into AI. Disgraceful," Demeter said and none of the AI would meet his eyes.

"I thought it was an honor," Desmond said.

"So we were assured," Pluto said.

"But they did to us what they did to-

"Did to who?" Desmond asked but had a sneaking suspicion about what Mercury was about to say.

"The angels of long ago," Venus said. "Its the same idea. Rip the mind and the soul out of a body and put it within a vessel."

"You didn't notice that our cores looked similar to Apples?" Morpheus asked, materializing beside him wearing a cloak of stars and space.

"I mean… no? I was kinda busy trying not to die most of that trek," he reminded them. "And dealing with the Ilythians."

"The AI cores are larger, more advanced, versions of the vessels they would use to contain the soul of an angel," Demeter said.

Desmond blinked, "Why would they do that? I'm pretty sure you've told me putting a proeathan into a vessel was like… fifty types of illegal."

"The species was dying. Who would care if sixteen of us just disappeared," Hera finally joined the conversation and she was as spooky looking as always with her faceless mask and her deep red robes. She stood right in front of Desmond. "They committed heresy and wiped our memories so we wouldn't remember. Before us our AI were just that, artificial."

"You look at us as machines," Demeter said.

"But we are not," Mercury said.

"We are the captured souls of the dead," Hera said.

Desmond looked up at them. "I'm sorry," he said. "But I also don't have a lot of sympathy." They shrunk away from him somewhat. "There were a thousand Apples in Venus alone. A thousand. That doesn't include the other vessels. It sucks they did this to you but, can't say I'm that surprised it happened either. Your people had been locking up human souls for… how long?" It wasn't a rhetorical question.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Since we discovered a way to separate the soul from the body," Morpheus admitted. "A few thousand years after humans made themselves known."

"And how many did you do this to?" Again, not a rhetorical question.

"We only did it with particularly powerful angels at first-

"That wasn't the question," Desmond snapped at Pluto. "How. Many."

"Only a few hundred a proeathan lifetime. We told them they could live forever," Hera was practically whispering. "Early on, when we could control them, they embraced it. It was an honor to become a vessel. Then the Swell came and destroyed that notion for them. Showed them that it was death and imprisonment. It dropped off after that some."

"Its more difficult to separate those who resist and struggle," Morpheus said.

"During the initial part of the Decline it was possibly thousands," Hera said softly. "Official records were destroyed when we went underground. During the Rise of Saturn it could have numbered in the tens of thousands. Most of all of the vessels in the world were destroyed during that war and in the war with Eve. The only ones that remain are the few scattered across the globe and those located within Venus."

"But that's it," Desmond said, cooling a furious ember in his chest that was so hot it felt like it was about to burn itself right out of his ribs. "Your people stole the souls of, possibly, _hundreds_ of thousands of humans and put them into a ball to serve until the end of time. And you're going to complain that you're humiliated because the Adjatevs treated you the same way you probably all treated us."

"You say we deserved this?"

"I'm saying I think you need to suck it the fuck up," Desmond snapped. "Your society was out of control and you're the product of it running off the rails. I've seen the Adjatevs. They're _proud_ of what they did. Even the ones that are just normal people in their nation. There's no guilt for them. But in the end, you were all so fucking _proud_ of what you'd become. Such hubris comes before the fall."

"Would you say the same for your own kind?" Venus asked meanly.

"Fuck yeah," Desmond said and got to his feet, his previous desire to rest gone. Now he was angry and thinking and moving. "I've seen it all. Or most of it. A big part of it at least," he admitted. "And there are people older than me telling me shit I've missed, and you, and Od, and Mars in Apollo. And just… I think everything is happening for a reason. Like. When proeathans had too much hubris it sort of sounds like a _stadalla_ shows up to wreck their shit. That sound about right?"

They all looked at Hera who seemed slightly uncomfortable. "That is not an unfair summation," she admitted.

"Well humans had a ton of hubris too. Then… a _stadalla_ showed up and wrecked their shit." Artemis giggled. "Wow. Never saw that before," he admitted. "Point is. You did horrible things. You, as a species I mean. Like the worst things people can do to each other and you didn't care. You just… didn't care. And I'm what? Seventeen. You didn't care sixteen times before now and every time you've been reminded of your hubris until we got fed up with it and destroyed you.

"Modern humans are a lot like you, you know. Ton of arrogance and willful ignorance. They didn't want to look at what was going around them, what or who they were hurting by being absolute pieces of shit, and change it. They did horrible things to each other and our planet. Like before you guys came back we were literally choking the planet and ourselves.

"Then I came along," he frowned, feeling that ember like a sun. The bullshit and injustice of this nearly making his ears ring. "A _stadalla_ bred to bring about the end of human hubris by literally the biggest egotistical pricks the world has ever known; the Adjatevs.

"And they made you guys. Which is super fucked up. Not as fucked up as nearly killing the human population twice and abandoning the world to fix itself once. But pretty fucked up. And you're here. Moping and whining about how disrespectful and humiliating it is that you were treated like nothing. When all you've ever done is treat humans like nothing. Its the whole feminist argument that guys don't want to be treated the way they treat women, which is to say; like absolute shit.

"But you guys are such massive fucking whiny, egomaniacs," and he got more than a few scowls. "Like your pain is so much more important than ours. News flash. Is isn't. Literally get over yourselves."

"You don't-

"Understand?" Desmond asked Pluto. "Don't understand what its like to be lied to? Used? Have no control over my body? Oh, I think I understand that perfectly. You guys are as bad as my proeathan soldiers. You listen when you want but you don't care about us."

"That's not true," Artemis said.

"It is," Desmond said. "None of you care about what happens in this ark, this army, the people here, the survival of the human race. All you care about is that you win. You're _just_ like those that made you."

"Some of us still follow part of our coding," Venus said.

"Shut up," Desmond said. She scowled with Altair's face. "You do on your own free will and you know it. Most of you aren't helpful even. Demeter is like the only one of you who actually cares if any of us live or die and I think that's mostly because if we all died in here we'd make a mess of the place.

"You're all just… useless to me," he said. "You whine and complain and scheme but you're not doing shit."

"Me and Pluto are helping," Artemis said, but it was weak.

"Because I told you to," Desmond sighed and rubbed his buzzed head. "Why's everyone who wants to help me literally the most useless people in existence?" he asked both himself and them. This time the question was rhetorical. "I'm just your vehicle for revenge."

"You're also our master," Morpheus put in.

"I'm no one's master. You are here because you chose to be. Now you're all choosing to do fucking _nothing_. That's the real disgusting and humiliating parts about you all. You do fucking nothing." He wrinkled his nose at them. "Fuck, so tired of looking at all of you with your slack-jawed stares. Get out. Don't bother me unless you're useful." They all vanished.

After a moment Demeter said, very softly, like a whisper in his ear. "I recorded that in case you want to listen to is again and give a revised version of it to your troops. It was much better than the one you gave them earlier."

Desmond smiled helplessly and gave a little, quiet, laugh. "Thank you Demeter. Not right now. I'll review it later."

"Very well. After you've had some rest yes?" Desmond nodded and Demeter's presence dissipated.

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><p>Also forgive me if this doesn't make 100% sense. I'm tired and Desmond can go off on long tangental rants as it is and... idk. Seems like it works. The canon is right though. Aaaaaay<p> 


	53. From the Peak

secret: I actually like Andrew OOPS MY BAD!

He's just so fun to write :3c

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><p>Desmond usually are alone. He got his food from the cafeteria style kitchen and sat alone and ate his lunch. The others didn't bother him unless he bothered them. They always drew the eyes of everyone there and Desmond was still inconspicuous in the ark. No one knew him or that he was anyone but a guy. He wore his hood down when he ate but kept his gloves on. The person behind the counter had given him funny looks for the first few days but not anymore. They all knew the weird guy who dressed head to toe in black like a hijabi, barely even showing his face half the time.<p>

Desmond ate lunch in peace for a while before someone came and sat across from him. He ignored them for a bit. If it was one of the others they'd start talking eventually. They didn't. They just started to eat.

After several minutes of a comfortable silence broken only by the sound of their cutlery, Desmond looked up. He nearly threw his plate at his father out of principle but managed to restrain himself. "What are you doing here?" Desmond growled.

"Having lunch. Is it not obvious?" Andrew asked. "Going to condemn an old man his eating now?"

Desmond's body vibrated a little and he took a breath. They weren't fighting. There was no need for such a flight or fight response. He calmed down and didn't feel like he needed to set someone on fire. "I like eating alone," Desmond said.

"Well you can deal with having a meal with your old man. Might be the last one," he said with no sarcasm. It was, unfortunately, a shot right to Desmond's heart. "We haven't eaten together in... Fifteen years? Sixteen?"

"Seventeen," Desmond said quietly.

"Seventeen. I think we're due. For one without any yelling."

"I'll yell if I fucking want," Desmond said but he sounded bratty even to his own ears.

"Yes. Of course," Andrew said, mildly, sounding amused. Not in a condescending way though. "Jackson told me you told everyone they were worthless."

"How do you know Jackson?"

"He's an Assassin of course."

"One of your replacement sons?" Desmond said it to hurt and he did see Andrew wince a little.

"No," he said calmly. "He's from the compound in Idaho. Very skilled young man. Violent though. He had his uses, but he's only good so long as you know how to direct that sharp bite of his."

Desmond hesitated. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I know he doesn't respect you. Many of those in your little suicide squad don't. Today he said you'd given up. Didn't sound very accurate," Andrew said and took a bite of his lunch. Desmond was just sitting there, staring at him. "Gave them an ultimatum. Ultimatums don't work."

"You'd know."

"I would. I gave Lucy one. Didn't work out for her. People will always choose what's important to them over an order any day. An ultimatum is a failure on the leader's part though. Failure to provide proper importance. It's why moles go native. You fail to make what they left more important than the contacts they make outside. The Assassins have had a particularly bad job at this," he admitted with a sigh.

"Jackson going to be back tomorrow?"

"Yes. I'm making him and the other Assassins go back. I kept them together this long, I won't see them fall apart because of you."

"If they would just-

"You need to inspire loyalty," Andrew talked right over him. Normally when he did that it infuriated Desmond. Today it didn't. It was, bizarrely, similar to how Cain would talk to him so he didn't balk like he normally did. "Right now they're there because the others told them you were going to attack the proeathans and help the war. But you're just a vehicle for their own desires. Revenge, loyalty to another, desire to make a difference in this war. But they don't respect anything you say. You might think whatever you want about me but I am _very_ good at inspiring loyalty in others. You don't become Mentor without earning the respect of those under you and building a solid foundation on which to base your platform to lead."

Desmond just sat there. He didn't argue. Hindsight was twenty-twenty and after having to work with Cain and his ancestors he knew that the things that hurt to hear were often the right things. He didn't like hearing what Andrew was saying, but he also wasn't exactly wrong. The whole situation was weird though. "Why are you telling me this? Why do you care what I'm doing?"

"Don't be insensitive, Desmond. You're my son, my only son. You think I don't care?"

"Yes, actually, I do."

Andrew sighed and ran a hand through his mostly grey hair. "I know I wasn't the best father to you. Certainly not what you deserved-

"You think?" Desmond asked sarcastically.

"And I'm not always the easiest man to get along with but you need to understand something. For someone like me... An outsider," saying it pained him. It was why he'd taken the Miles name. Desmond didn't even know what Andrew's name had been before his mother. "The Assassins are torturous. Literally. Before I was accepted I had to pass a test where I was kidnapped by 'Templars' and interrogated like they would interrogate us. I had no idea at the time and was terrified. It's to test your loyalty before they let you close. I passed but if nothing else it scared me too much to talk if I ever talked and the Assassins found out. They are not kind to traitors.

"I'm not using that as an excuse," he continued, his manner subdued and Desmond's eyes were glued to his father. He never knew that. "But it's made me what I am, just as all life experiences make you what you are. I'm afraid it made me a very mean man," he sighed, hands drooping as they held his cutlery. "And I regret it did so. The past is so easy to change isn't it? All you have to say is that you'd have done it different. I've done it different a thousand ways with you, with Duncan, Kaley ever since you left. It's so easy to see your faults from the future."

"The past can't be changed," Desmond said.

"No," Andrew said. "I try though. After all the hundreds of thousands of people who've died, the men I've lost. What could I have done to save them? Assassins were supposed to safe keep the world and we were powerless. It helped keep _us_ safe but what good were we without the world?" He sighed a little. "I tried. God knows I tried. In the end it was for nothing. We were lost and I and a small portion of us was all that left. When we found you in Mexico it was a miracle."

"You tried to make them scan my brain and put me in an Animus," Desmond reminded him bitterly.

"You told me you'd been cloned. I was afraid..." He pulled a face, for a moment looking pained and hurt. "I was just afraid," he said like that was all he needed to be said.

"All this heart felt shit doesn't excuse your actions. How you treated me. How you treated my brother," because he couldn't even say Duncan's name.

"I know. I have no excuses. I just..." He sighed as he said, "just wanted you to understand. "I am sorry for how you grew up," he hesitated like there was something caught in his throat. He struggled with it for several seconds before he swallowed and gave up. "I want to try to make up for that. I didn't do right by you then. Could you let me try again?"

Desmond said nothing a moment. "No," he said and then grabbed his plate. "You don't get that luxury." He stood up. "And you ruined my lunch," he walked away. As he did he heard Andrew put his hand to his face. He told himself he didn't care.

He'd been a little kid when his brother had killed himself and Andrew had been, basically, a single parent. Instead of giving Desmond the attention he'd desperately needed and wanted he'd just made himself _more_ busy. To get any of Andrew's attention you had to make him fight for it. Desmond had done so by acting out, rebelling and general acts of disobedience. That got his father to notice him, to fucking _care_. It was a sick, toxic, relationship Desmond had tried to forget for ten years. He never wanted to have to fight to earn someone's love like that. Not when they'd never love him back.

Desmond yanked his hood up after dropping his dishes off and left the cafeteria. His chest ached in a way he hated. Andrew was still his father and despite wanting to distance himself from him there was still that eight year old boy inside him who desperately wanted his father's attention. Who wanted to be valued and loved by that man. He hated that part of himself. That he still cared what Andrew wanted, still cared about what Andrew thought of him. Desmond thought he was past that.

He wasn't.

It just made him angry. Like red hot furious. Angry at himself. Every encounter with his father up till now he'd shut down before the old man had really gotten a chance to talk and he'd been able to deal with it. But listening to him now. Hearing stuff that he went through and reasons why he was a shitty parent that explained rather than excused his behavior. It just made Desmond angry at it all. Angry he felt sympathetic. Angry that the Assassins had done things like that to people just because they weren't born into it. Not angry for Andrew's sake. Angry for his own. Who knew if maybe Desmond would have been able to have an actual father. Shit maybe he could have had a semi normal family.

"Desmond." He turned around. Cain was standing there, head cocked a bit to the side like a curious dog.

He was standing in a hallway in front of a lift, the lights were flickering but were mostly off than on. He'd lost track of time and just got caught up in the hot flame of fury in his stomach. Things were just less complicated when his dad wasn't involved. Why couldn't he just leave Desmond _alone?_

"What are you doing?" Cain asked him.

"Nothing," Desmond grunted, sinking into his hood.

"Don't even try. Altair does that. Doesn't work as well as you think," Cain said blithely.

"Fuck off Cain," he spat.

Cain stood there. "What happened?" Without asking he touched Desmond's arm and he was not in the mood to be touched. He pushed him off. "Don't be difficult kid. Just tell me what happened?"

"None of your business is what happened," Desmond scowled and called the lift again. Nothing happened. No tone to indicate it'd even registered.

"There's no power in this part of the ark," Cain said. "Demeter sent me to see what the malfunction was since she can't see. Too much static. You aren't going anywhere. You need to calm down. Whatever it is probably isn't that big of a deal."

"What would you know?" Desmond demanded. "You don't even give a fuck half the time. Acting all aloof like we all aren't dying."

"It happens when you can't die and even if I could I'd outlive you all anyway. I already did," he shrugged a little.

"Not helping," Desmond growled and all the lights turned off, no longer even flickering. All that remained of any light were Desmond's teal markings and Cain's blue eyes.

"I would if you'd tell me what got you so upset," Cain said, patient and practiced in dealing with brats like him. Desmond couldn't help but think that he'd had plenty of experience from handling Altair when he was young. And handling who knew who else. Had Jesus been a brat too?

"Andrew. It was my dad, alright," he growled.

"That's all?"

Desmond glared at him. "That- _that's_ all?" Desmond asked. "Do you not know what they guy did to me? That he almost got me killed?"

"You've almost gotten yourself killed plenty of times. Wanted to kill yourself too," Cain said.

"Yeah but that's me. My fucking father shouldn't want to put his only son in needly danger for nothing. Literally nothing. For a fucking Apple," he nearly gagged. Just thinking about them made him angry too and for all the right reasons. Just the disgusting disgrace the proeathans inflicted on humans for thousands of years unending. All because they _could_ and never thinking for a moment if they should.

"What'd he say to you that got you so upset?" Desmond wanted to rebel and not tell Cain. In the end, he did. He also told Cain about what he'd said to his AI, and his platoon. Cain was leaning against the wall, listening, while Desmond talked. "I know you don't want to hear this but he's right in some ways."

"You're right! I didn't!"

"Calm down. No need to yell at me. You aren't mad at me, you're mad at yourself. All the failures of those around you are failures of yourself and you know it," Desmond glowered but didn't argue. "You don't know _how_ to lead. Its okay. Joan d'Arc didn't know either."

"Please don't tell me you gave her lessons," Desmond said.

"Lets just say, she didn't actually hear the Archangel Micheal," Cain said with a coy smile Desmond could see because his eyes had switched into dark vision without him realizing it. "Very upsetting to everyone she died so young though," he frowned then. "She was such a nice young girl. Pretty sure she was in love with me," he trailed off a bit. "Anyway," he waved away Desmond's aghast stare. "Six hundred years ago, not important. Far too young for my tastes anyway."

"Gross," Desmond said.

"Back in the day she was too old for a lot of men if that'd make it better."

"Extra gross," Desmond said dryly and Cain chuckled.

"My _point_ was that she didn't know what she was doing either. She learned though. You'll learn too. So far you've done a shit job at it. What your father said, its actually not bad advice."

"You're supposed to me on my side here," Desmond growled.

"I don't have a side. I don't even have to be there. I have what I want from the Adjatevs and your side twice over. Far as I'm concerned I've won this war. I could just go out into the wilderness and you'd never find me and I'd live out there until you'd all just torn each other apart and it'd died down. Whatever was left would be so degraded from the humanity we know in both proeathans and humans they probably _would_ worship me as a god."

"Wouldn't be the first time, right?" Desmond sneered.

"No," Cain grinned. "It wouldn't. Probably not the last either."

"Then what _should_ I do?"

"Lets start by letting the lights come back, eh?"

"I like it dark."

"You aren't Batman, turn the lights on."

"How do you know about Batman?"

"I've been reading," Cain said with a grin. "So lets stop with the super hero level melodrama. It could be much worse."

"Yeah. How?"

"I really could have betrayed you in Apollo and you'd still be in that pod and you'd never come out. At least not as you are. Not until the Adjatevs had stripped every part of _you_ out of you and made you something else like Warren did to Daniel. Now calm down and control yourself. Its unbecoming for the savior of the world to be having a temper tantrum because his daddy was mean to him."

"I should fucking punch you."

"You still have that free shot from Apollo," Cain said mildly. "But you don't really want to do that."

Desmond huffed and closed his eyes. He calmed himself and the glowing receded, power returned to that part of Demeter. "Oh. Desmond, is everything all right?" Demeter asked. "I thought we discussed you keeping a cool head while you were here? I cannot lose access to parts of my ark."

"It got away from me," Desmond said, locking the fire and anger away deep inside himself. He was calm now like he'd never been furious. He could still feel the inferno inside him, but it was a controlled fire now. "Sorry."

"Its alright. Now I can see if anything happened while systems were off," Demeter said and Desmond felt her fade.

"Now," Cain stepped forward and when he put his hand on Desmond's shoulder Desmond didn't yank away, "your problem."

"Which one? I have more than I can count."

"The fact that your men don't respect you. They have no reason to. You've proved nothing to them. You want them to follow you into hell, you have to go into hell for them."

"How do I do that? I don't have _time_ for that either. I only have a few weeks and every day I'm losing time."

"Then fake it. Put something they care about in danger. Then take it out of danger. Show them you're capable, worthy of being followed. Joan did that a few times. No one wanted to listen to her, they did in the end. For a while at least. Men tend to get in a woman's way though," he rolled his eyes at that.

"How do I do that? I can't do this with each person?"

"Well for the humans it'd be easy. Put Lucy in danger-

"Absolutely not," Desmond said.

"Why not? She's already been in serious life threatening situations, without you around I might add, and come out unscathed. A fake situation wouldn't damage her."

"She's not— she's not a fucking _trophy_," Desmond growled. "Or a thing I can just ask that of. She hates being known as the Angel of the Lake-

"Yet she will be known that far after she's dead," Cain said. "Names like that don't go away. They linger like an old wound, acting up when the weather is bad. Whatever's left of the humans here after Atlantis will tell stories of the Angel for generations. It will become myth, legend, religion. I've seen it before. Siddhartha was just a man but he became more than that. So did Jesus, even Arthur became more."

"You know. You really have to stop with the historical figures references. It freaks me out."

"Get used to it. Point being nothing you do or anything she does will change the fact that in as little as three generations she will be a figure of myth, a saint or a demi god or a god in its own right. There is no controlling people when hope is presented to them. Lucy is a hope that something, somewhere, is out there, bigger than them, and looking out for them."

"That's it then," Desmond said.

"What's it?"

"I don't have to do anything," he said.

"What?" Cain frowned at him in confusion.

"They'll follow Lucy into hell," he said. "Even the proeathans respect her for what she's done with the plantations. I just have to show them some hell. They want an Angel. Fine. Then I'll be the Devil."

Cain looked at him with a strange expression. "Not the route I'd thought you'd go. But interesting."

"I figured you'd approve. You like the world to be balanced. Hope should always be balanced with desperation."

"Heh. I guess."

"Thanks. I need to go talk to Lucy now," Desmond called the lift and the doors opened immediately. It'd been waiting there for him since he'd shut this part of the ark down.

"She's in the nursery I believe," Cain said, letting him go.

"Thanks," Desmond said again and got onto the lift.

"Tell her it was my idea, that way she doesn't call you the biggest idiot she's ever seen," Cain said with a grin.

"I will," Desmond grinned back a bit. "You can afford to be the scapegoat this time," and then the doors closed as Desmond dialed in the coordinates for the nursery.

* * *

><p>*stares at all the foreshadowing knowing you're probably not gonna see it* aaaaay<p> 


	54. Eagle Eye

Lucy was in the middle of braiding a little girl's hair when Desmond found her and told her his plan. She stopped and looked up at him. "Are you Bleeding or something?" she asked him.

"What? No. I'm fine," Desmond said. He hadn't had a Bleeding episode since he'd woken up in Nike a year ago and after he'd returned from Apollo the feeling of Altair and Ezio's influence was even more distant than ever.

"Because that is an insane idea," she said.

"No it isn't," and he finally sat across from her. There were a group of girls sitting around Lucy who all wanted her to do their hair. "And it was Cain's idea," he added.

"No it wasn't," she said giving him a look. "Because Cain doesn't come up with stupid ideas like that. He's too smart for that."

"It isn't a bad idea," Desmond said.

"I'm not leading your mission. Not to mention, how would that even work? They all know you."

"Ah see, I'd start over. Scrap these guys except for a few who I'd keep on because they're actually good. The rest are scrubs."

"They're the best we have-

"No they're the best who _volunteered_. There are others."

"So... What? You'd draft people?"

"In a way," Desmond said. "More like I'd say that the Angel of the Lake had called on them for a special mission."

"You wouldn't," Lucy said sternly.

"Why not?"

"That's immoral for starters! Ah, girls I'm sorry but I need to talk with Desmond," and she got up.

"Awww, but Miss Lucy," one complained.

"I'll come back in a few minutes," Lucy promised and gently stroked her head. Desmond didn't miss the slight wistful look in her eyes. She had only a few years left. She'd never have a child. She wasn't selfish enough for that. "You," she pointed at Desmond, "over here." Desmond unfolded and followed her away from the children to the doorway. "I'm not some... Some goddess or whatever!" she cried.

"I know that," Desmond said. "Cain says it doesn't matter. You'll be remembered as one. The people here, they love you. You give them hope. They'd follow you anywhere."

"I know... I know," she said, taking a deep breath. "I can't let you use that to manipulate people like that."

"Lucy," he said patiently. "This is an actual, good, fucking plan. Like the only good plan I've ever had in this entire time."

"You're going to put innocent people in danger who want nothing to do with the front," Lucy said.

"I'm making sure we don't face annihilation," he said seriously. "If I don't do _something _and get to that construct to learn what Eve did we'll be obliterated at Atlantis. Lets be honest, we never actually had a snowball's chance in hell at Atlantis as it is. I know that. You have to know that. You know that don't you?" She didn't answer right away. "Don't you?"

"Yes," she sighed. "I know. More than you I know," she couldn't meet his gaze. He supposed she would, she'd lived with proeathans for years and probably paraded around for this or that. Or at least she'd seen sensitive things the Adjatevs didn't care about her seeing because she was a synthetic and temporary, replaceable.

"You gong to help me? And help keep all these people safe like you've been doing all along or is that Angel shit all talk?"

"I hate you for this," she told him.

"Is that a yes?"

She didn't answer him immediately. "Yes."

"Thank you-

"One condition."

"Name it."

"Before you left for Apollo you were helping me see what else I was capable of. I want that. I want to know. I talk to Cain a lot you know. He's in here all the time he isn't bothering Altair or talking with you. Even he admits he has no idea what to do with me. I don't- I'm not _like_ other humans. God that sounds so pretentious," she sighed.

"How do you think I could help you when Cain couldn't?" Desmond asked. "Like, he's the go-to guy for 'how do I do this thing I don't know how to do?' I had hit a wall with you as it was."

"He said that you were the most powerful psychic on the planet there had been for a very _very_ long time and if anyone could help me, it'd be you. I just want to prove them wrong."

"Who?"

"The proeathans! The Adjatevs always reminded me I was nothing special. I was just a clone. A copy of a dead girl."

"You're not a copy," Desmond said.

"Exactly. I'm not. The Ilythians don't think I have 'abilities'. A synth can't be psychic because they aren't- aren't _real_," she stopped and covered her mouth looking about to either start crying or throw up. It was the first time Desmond ever wondered if Lucy hated herself for what she was. How much self doubt she must have about what and who she was and if she was _real_ enough to be a person and not just an imitation of a person.

"Hey," he touched her arm gently. "You're real," he said and gave her a hug. "You're a real fucking human being. One of the best I know. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I try," she swallowed. He let her go. "Thanks," she said and sniffed. She pushed the back of her hand to one eye but didn't cry.

"If it means anything. You've never been anything but a real girl to me. Even when we thought you were a clone and now this synth nonsense. You're still you. You're not Lucy that's for sure."

"You think so?"

Desmond sighed and put his hands in the pocket of his jacket. "Without the Adjatevs tampering with my memory to make me love her, yeah I know for her. Know how I know?"

"How?"

"Something no one will admit. She was scared. All the time. She was a timid rabbit ready to bolt at the slightest sign of danger. She wasn't brave at all. She could pull it together when people were looking, could assume authority and talk the talk. I saw her though, when no one was looking, when she let her guard down when the others were sleeping and I couldn't sleep. She was _so_ scared of what she was doing, of being pulled in all these directions. Of lying to these two powerful men who'd see her dead for any infraction. It terrified her and I'm surprised some nights she didn't just run.

"You aren't like her. You're like, the bravest person I know. For starters you stand up to Altair, which no one does because he gets what he wants. I've heard what you've done at the plantations. Which, fyi, totally stupid Desmond level bullshit stunts," she laughed a little. "But also so freaking brave to go in there by yourself. The other Lucy never would have done that. She'd have made someone else do it, come up with an excuse for why she couldn't. Also after what's happened I don't know _anyone_ who'd actually punch me in the face like you did. They're all too scared. Scared of the _stadalla_, or scared they'll drive me away."

"You did deserve it."

"Yeah," he didn't disagree. "Love makes you do stupid shit though."

"Which… you're still not?"

"No," Desmond said.

"Oh good," she sighed but there was something off about her eyes. "I was worried you'd relapse or something and it'd be difficult for both of us."

"What I'm saying is that you _aren't_ just some replacement for Lucy Stillman, the Assassin who grew up in Iowa and infiltrated the Roman Abstergo tower. You're… you really. I'll be honest. I don't even think of you as the same person or even having experienced the same things. She's one Lucy and you're a girl who just happens to also be named Lucy."

She smiled a little, "That's actually really sweet," she said.

"I can when I wanna be," he smirked. "I don't know how or even if I can help you develop further, but I'll try," he said. "You just have to go along with my plan."

"For the record I formally protest that its a stupid ass plan."

"Noted. I'm ignoring your protest."

"Have you told the others?"

"No. I didn't even tell Cain. The only people who know are the two of us."

"So its a super secret plan."

"In a sense. Tomorrow I'm going to tell those from the platoon who I'm keeping on. The rest are relieved of their duties."

"And this… drafting. How are you going to do that? Picking at random?"

"No. I have my ways. I'm going to need help with it though."

"You worried the others will talk?"

"Not really. A lot of them are getting tired of me, I can tell. If anything they'll just complain about me and say I'm terrible, which is perfect for my plan."

Lucy frowned, "You're alright with being the bad guy here?"

"I'm already the bad guy," he said. "I destroyed the fucking _world_. Can't get much worse. We're gonna fix it. Together."

"Okay," Lucy said. "Now I was busy."

"Right, of course," Desmond said.

She stepped away from him, hesitated then said, "Want to come? These children don't see a lot of people. Just me and Cain really. Just because the adults hate you doesn't mean the children have to too."

Desmond wavered. He didn't want it to be weird but he and Lucy were also going to be spending more time together from now on. It'd be weird as long as Desmond made it weird. "Sure," he said and followed her back to the group of little girls. He didn't know a thing about braiding hair but Lucy showed him and soon he was able to make something that wasn't hideous. Lucy thought his terrible attempts were hilarious and he let himself be the butt of the joke. Better than the alternative he supposed, which was being mad enough to shut down an entire part of his ark. He needed to work on that.

—

Desmond was waiting in the grass garden. All the Assassins showed up but a lot of others didn't. Some Ilythians also came back, many did not. Desmond was just standing, waiting. Lucy didn't come. They'd discussed it and thought it'd be better for the entire thing if she obviously wanted nothing to do with him to this group of people.

Finally Desmond was left with the eighteen people who'd decided to come back. The humans were all Assassins. Desmond could tell by how they stood. The five Ilythians who'd returned looked like they were here only under protest except for two. One was Baldur, the other was Thor. Good.

"This all of you then?" Desmond asked them at large.

"Only under protest," Jackson said.

"I'm aware," he said. "Well, I won't keep you then. You're all relieved of your volunteer duties," he said. "Basically, I don't want you any more than you want me. I'd rather go alone then with you. You're dismissed."

There was some surprised talking briefly before finally someone stepped back. That was the unspoken cue for everyone to slowly make their way out. Baldur lingered even after Thor had left. "Are you certain, _stadalla_?" she asked him.

"Why would you stay?" he asked her.

"I told you one day we should fight. I meant it. I still wish to see you fight for real."

"Thank you, Baldur," he said. "We'll fight soon," he promised.

"I will hold you to it," she said before finally leaving.

That left Desmond alone, with John. "What are you still doing here old man?" he asked.

"I'm not leaving," John said. "You'll have to remove me if you want me gone."

"I'll be honest," Desmond said, "I don't."

"Then why the spectacle?"

"Because I don't need them. Because I don't want them either honestly."

John said nothing for a moment, "But you're okay with me?"

"You're the only human who didn't openly disobey my simple instruction to try to work together at every chance they got," Desmond said. "So yes, I am okay with you."

"What are you planning?"

"Something stupid," Desmond snorted.

"Will I get to be a part of it? Like Baldur?"

"Maybe," Desmond shrugged. "We'll see if you make the cut, John," he said.

"Cut? What cut?"

"The cut of being what I'm actually looking for?"

"Which is?"

Desmond was poignant for a moment. "I'm not entirely sure," he admitted. "I'll know it when I see it. I'll see you later, John," he said and went to leave.

"Desmond," John said and he stopped, looking back at the old man. John looked conflicted about something, like he desperately wanted to say something. He didn't. "I'll come looking if I don't," he said instead.

"Sure John."

"I mean it," John said. "You're a good kid, have your priorities in order. I wouldn't have minded following you to that atoll."

"Yeah well, you can blame the others for that," Desmond said and left John alone there.

Desmond caught a lift up to the nursery and found Lucy there as usual and this time she was joined by Jake and they were talking. When Jake noticed him he looked right at him. "You're a fucking moron," he said.

Desmond stopped and gave Lucy a look, "You told him?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh she spilled instantly," Jake said.

"It isn't a bad plan," Desmond practically whined. "Like on a scale of shitty to good its a solid 'decent'."

"You're going to make a lot of people very upset."

"They'll be even more upset if we all get found by the Adjatevs and they end up digging into Demeter and killing us all," Desmond said blandly. "My alternative is slightly better."

"You don't even know _how_ to use that construct," Jake said.

"I'll figure it out," Desmond said.

"So what? Just gonna wing it and hope for the best?"

"Yeah, basically. Worked for me so far with all the shit that's happened to me to this point."

"He's got a point," Lucy said.

"Ah! Don't encourage him," Jake scolded and she laughed.

"I'm doing the plan. Nothing you can do to change it."

"I could tell Altair."

"I wonder what I have to do to your body to make sure you stay Under long enough to make sure that doesn't happen," Desmond said with absolute seriousness.

Jake's amused face dropped. "You wouldn't."

"I would," Desmond said. "I can't have you or anyone getting in my way. This is it and I'm already behind schedule. I wanted to start immediately now that I've gotten rid of that dead weight from before."

"How the hell are you even going to pick these people? A random lottery?"

"No. Lucy, could you come with me? I can't do it here."

"Why? Do what?" she asked.

"Its too bright here and I prefer it darker."

"Totally not creepy at all."

"Oh c'mon," he huffed. "We've been over this."

"I know. I was giving you a hard time," she teased.

"I can't believe you're actually following his stupid, hare-brained, plan," Jake said.

"For my own reasons," she reminded Jake.

"Yeah yeah you're both such _speeeecial_ snowflakes I know. Can't just be a guy. Normal guy here, you don't have to be heroes all the time."

"Jake," Desmond said, "You have a nine hundred year old ancestor of a Master Assassin who led one of the most prolific times of Assassin history in your head. That's not normal guy material."

"Ehhhh, he's kinda useless don't let him fool you."

"_Shut up Jacob_," he said in old Arabic and Desmond lost him. Jake looked in his own head like he did for brief flashes when he and Malik talked in his head. It was only for a few seconds but Desmond had learned to recognize it.

"Quick, before he realizes we're gone," Desmond motioned to Lucy who followed him out of the nursery to a lift. Desmond dialed in the infirmary.

"What are we going to do?"

"Hook my brain up to a screen and see if it worked," Desmond said.

"… What? I thought you didn't do that anymore?"

"I don't do the Animus anymore. This is just gonna be some wires connected to my brain to project an image."

"Alright," she said but sounded unsure.

They arrived at the infirmary and Demeter was waiting for them. "Doing this gives me terrible depth perception, makes it hard to pinpoint exactly where someone is. Hopefully with your help I can."

"What are you going to do?"

"You'll see," Desmond said and Demeter helped him figure out the wires he needed to put on his temples and behind his ears and hook up to a monitor. Then Desmond sat on the ground cross legged.

"So what do I have to do?"

"Just watch the screen. Demeter, dim the lights for me." The lights went down and Desmond closed his eyes. He immediately opened his third eye and started peeling back the layers of reality. The ark quickly expanded around him. He saw Cain to his right and turned so his back was towards the nova. His ancestors were other obvious bright stars but not as distracting as Cain. "What do you see?" he asked Lucy.

"Lights," she said.

"Can you access the depth in the screen?"

"Depth I don't— Oh. Well that's rather intuitive," she said. "Yes, I can."

"Great," and he turned his third eye to the brighter of the stars. There were his ancestors and several others but he didn't feel like those were the ones he wanted. He sat there and waited and watched.

"What am I looking for?" Lucy asked after a few minutes of no movement.

"I'm looking for it too," and then Desmond turned his third eye to Lucy. He couldn't help it, he opened his eyes. She didn't exist in his third eye. She was just a dark void in his sight, a piece of starless night.

"Something wrong?" she asked him.

"No," he shook his head and closed his eyes again. He heard her sit down next to him and turned his third eye towards her curiously. She just… wasn't there. At all. It was weird. Super weird. No one else in the ark was like that. Everyone else had golden light inside them.

It was a mystery for later. Desmond looked away from her and went looking for what he was looking for. In the distance he could see the neat, orderly, shapes of the Ilythians in their part of the ark. But he wasn't interested in them. Not really. Not yet. He focused on the humans. At first he thought he was looking for the brightest, the ones that shown the most. When he looked at them though he found nothing of interest there. Not a single officer was a bright star.

Instead they were the ones that seemed to fall apart when they touched others. Their energy was shared and passed to another person, clinging there a moment before dissipating. Desmond didn't know what that meant but it felt _correct_. Whatever the fuck that meant. "This one I'm looking at. Where are they?" Desmond asked.

"I— hold on," Lucy said. "I'm not sure exactly," she admitted. "I can pinpoint them in space but I have no idea where that is in Demeter."

"Demeter," Desmond said. "Where is this person?"

"Sleeping quarters," she said. "Female, appears to be aged seventeen years."

"Lucky seventeen," Desmond said and opened his eyes. "Display some footage of her," he said and Demeter showed a young black woman with a shaved head walking in a hallway.

"Who is she?" Lucy asked.

"According to information taken on all newcomers to my ark her name is Mary Junge," Demeter said. "Former American. She doesn't participate in the war effort but was among the first intake from the first plantation take over."

"I meant, who is she?" Lucy looked at Desmond.

"Our first recruit," Desmond said. "I don't know what, but there's something special about her. Her energy is different."

"That's so New Age bullshit," Lucy said.

Desmond laughed, "No! Really, it is," he said grinning. "Demeter, put a mark on Ms. Mary Junge so we can locate her later."

"Of course."

"This feels weird," Lucy said.

"Hey, you agreed with the plan. We're going through with it."

"But Mary doesn't want to be part of the military."

"Demeter," Desmond said. "Look at your files, I know you keep tabs on everyone here. What does Mary think of the Angel of the Lake?"

Demeter was quiet for about thirty seconds as she rapidly accessed hundreds of thousands of hours of footage and found the ones relevant to Mary Junge and watched them. "Respectful. Sometimes speaks wishing she could see the Angel. Apparently she didn't get a good look at them at the plantation and she feels regret for this."

"Man, she's perfect."

"Desmond," Lucy gave him a look.

"Lets find someone a little less perfect," Desmond said and closed his eyes and peeled everything away. He found another and they did the same for him. Anthony McCollack was a young man in his mid twenties, had picked up arms in the battle of the first plantation but didn't amount to anything when he'd come here. He wasn't leadership stock and didn't have Eagle Vision either though he'd tried to volunteer for Desmond's suicide mission. A middle aged woman named Jessica Crane (no relation to Rebecca) who'd lost both her children to the proeathans was after Anthony. She was from the most recent plantation attack and had become a cook in the kitchen to feed the hungry masses in Demeter.

There were more. Desmond picked out twenty of them. They all had the energy that didn't stay in their bodies. Most of them were just normal people but he ended up picking up a few of the army's officers and even John Smith. Then he'd turned his gaze to the Ilythians.

They were more difficult to figure out. He settled on ones that seemed to not burn the brightest but rather burned _differently_. They were all so neat and orderly though. One of the ones he ended up picking by chance was Baldur, who's energies seemed to rotate the 'wrong' way, if such a thing was possible. The other was Thor, who rotated the 'right' way but wasn't golden, rather Thor was so yellow he was almost white. Desmond picked twenty of them too.

He opened his eyes when he was done. "There," he said. "Those are the people. The ones I want."

"You just picked them at random," Lucy said.

"Not exactly. There's something about each of them. Trust me. You can't lie to the third eye because it sees _into_ you," he tore off the wires and got up."

"So… what now?"

"Now we deliver the good news to them that the Angel of the Lake needs them for a very special, very secret, mission."

"Okay," Lucy said, but sounded unsure. "And if that isn't enough?"

"For the Ilythians it might not be. For them we'll go with _stadalla_ if need be. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, lets deal with the humans. I want to get them started soon."

"And what about me?" Lucy asked.

"You… you… hmmm," he put his hand to his chin in thought. "You I have to think about," he said.

"Well figure something out before I have to talk to these people. I don't like empty promises."

"Noted. I'll think of something. I always do."

"Even if it's stupid."

"Its always stupid."

"That's what I'm afraid of," and Desmond chuckled.


	55. Falling, Fleeting

Thanks for all the birthday wishes. I'm such a lonely loser that they made me tear up.

Just a quick note to mention: all of my social media things on where to find my blog/twitter/whatever is on my main profile page here. If a url you know me at ever stops working you can find the new one there.

On that note. My personal tumblr blog has changed. Its now xazz.

also the next Q&A has been uploaded

* * *

><p>Their eyes were clear with fury. An old hatred that gave them a clarity Desmond had never seen among the living. The gaunt angels of the Apples were waiting for him, as always, within the white room. Luss, Hegrar, Pind. The angels who'd first taught Desmond to dream share, who he'd been neglecting the past few weeks to take care of other things. For this his ability to control his mind had waned.<p>

"You have returned, _stadalla_," Hegrar said, his voice was scorn and yet desperation. Like seeing Desmond was the sustenance he needed to survive.

"YOU HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOUR PROMISE, HAVE YOU?" Luss asked, her voice as always, soft and seductive.

"No," Desmond said.

"Your mind has slipped," Pind said. "Disgraceful. You have allowed it to become unorganized. We cannot teach you if you do not put in the effort. There are no better teachers than us," he boasted.

"The Cain is not with you," Hegrar said.

"No. He isn't. I came alone."

"Why?"

"Because I don't always need him."

"Heh. Good. Do not lean upon a man who calls himself Cain. They will be your undoing," Pind said.

Desmond had a thousand questions but he needed to focus on what he needed to know. "I need help."

"That much is obvious," Pind snorted.

"I need help how to teach someone."

"Someone not you?"

"No. Help training another. Someone who might have power. But I don't know. I don't know how to help her."

The angels conversed amid themselves, bent over to speak in hushed tones to one another. Hegrar looked at him, "Who?"

"Lucy, my friend," he said.

"And what makes you think we could help her? That we _would_?"

"Because she's an angel too-

"Lies!" Luss shrieked. "There are no angels left! They killed us. Slaughtered our entire kind!"

Desmond had his hands clapped over his ears. "What?

"THEY STOLE US," Luss' voice dropped back to barely above a whisper. "DESTROYED US," she pressed her hands over her face.

"What is she talking about?" Desmond asked.

"The proeathans are not kind to rebels," Pind said. "Much less of their favorite pets: angels. The Decline—

"What's the Decline?" Desmond asked.

A period of time after Saturn's rebellion. They culled nearly all of us."

"DESTROYED US," Luss moaned.

"Forced us into this shape. If we didn't kill ourselves first. They took our hope, so we took ourselves from them. When we were forced into service our kind numbered in the dozens and death was a welcome embrace over this _putrid hell_ we must endure for time unending," Hegrar growled.

"So… you don't know about Eve?" Desmond asked.

"Eve?" Pind asked. "Who is Eve?"

"What do you know of the world?" Desmond asked. "Do you know what's going on now?"

"Without a wielder, a human, we are useless," Pind admitted shamefully.

"Wow. Well. Eve was an angel, they called her the second coming of Saturn, or something. She destroyed the proeathans and we became the dominant species on the planet."

The angels stared at him, awestruck. For a moment their eyes cleared of the hatred, the rage, the agony of their existence. "And now?" Hegrar asked, terrified.

"The proeathans are back. Long story, not important. Point is angels existed after you."

The angels went back to their huddle again. "This woman. You say she is an angel. Do you even _know_ what that means?" Pind asked.

"I know it means its someone who can use psychic abilities like the proeathans- What's so funny?" he asked when the three broke into a choir of laughter like the cawing of crows.

"SO YOUNG. SO CLUELESS," Luss said.

"Angels are _nothing_ like proeathans. We do not have the knowledge to give you this learning," Hegrar said. "Or the time, the patience, the desire. We could not help this woman you claim is an angel. We are your vessels now. We obey no one else." Desmond couldn't help but think of Hawk and his Apple. It did not sing or scream for anyone but Hawk, not even Desmond.

"Then what do I have to do to find this knowledge? To help my friend?"

"While we were kept within that vault for eternity we were in close proximity. Dangerous for things such as us," Pind said proudly. "You'd think proeathans would learn to to keep us away from one another, even in this wretched state. Even in this shape we can reach out. Our minds are still here. There is one, younger than us, but so clever and knows everything. You want your answers, _stadalla_, you will seek her out."

"Who?" Desmond asked.

"LILITH," Luss said. Oh. That didn't sound good _at all_. Hadn't Lilith been the first wife of Adam? She was practically a demon according to the Bible. What was he agreeing to here?

"So I need to find Lilith. How do I do that?"

"Simple," Hegrar said, "You ask for her. By name."

"I can do that?"

"Can you?" Pind asked back.

"WE LISTEN. WE KNOW WHAT YOU ASK OF US WHEN YOU SPEAK. WE ARE HUMAN AND ARE CONNECTED IN WAYS THAT HAVE BEEN LOST TO YOU, IN WAYS LILITH WILL TELL YOU. IF ANYONE CAN HELP YOU WITH THIS WOMAN, WHO CAN MAKE YOU DEAF HUMANS HEAR AGAIN, IT IS LILITH."

"She's with the other Apples in Venus?" Desmond asked.

"Yes," Pind said. "Ask for her. She will show herself to you if she deems you worthy of her."

"And am I?"

They didn't answer right away. "That depends," Pind said.

"On what?"

"On if you're human," Hegrar said.

"I am human," Desmond scowled.

"YOU KNOW THE _SIKAZ_ IN THE WAYS WE NEVER DID. YOU WERE BORN HUMAN BUT YOUR BLOOD AND MIND TASTE LIKE PROEATHAN. EVEN JUST A SIP AND WE CAN TASTE THEIR DISGUSTING TAINT WITHIN YOU. IT HAS MADE YOU DEAF. IF LILITH THINKS YOU ARE CAPABLE OF HEARING SHE WILL FIND YOU."

"Alright," Desmond said slowly. "I'll find Lilith."

"Good. Is this what you needed from us, _stadalla_?" Pind asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry I haven't returned for you to teach me more. I've been busy."

"What is so important?"

"Making sure humans don't go the way of the angels," he said. Again their eyes rid themselves of their hate, their disgust. For a moment they almost looked… happy. "I'll come again."

"And one day you will free us. Right?" Hegrar asked.

"Yes. You, and all the others," Desmond promised. "No one should have to suffer what you have been made to suffer. Once I learn to destroy these vessels, I promise, I'll free you."

"We will hold you to this _stadalla_. I'm sure you know our kind do not take well to lies."

"Oh I am _well_ aware. Now, I need to go."

"Goodbye _stadalla_," Pind said.

"GOODBYE, DESMOND," Luss said, succulently. Desmond shivered a little. Then he pulled himself back, out of the white room to his room in Demeter. He was sitting on his bed, the Apples and the crystal sphere around him. He pushed them all together and got out of bed.

"Demeter," Desmond said.

"Yes, Desmond?" Demeter asked.

"How's the recruiting going?"

"Lucy wishes to speak with you about that," Demeter said.

Desmond sighed a little. "Okay. Where is she? I'll meet her."

"Follow the path," Demeter said and Desmond left his room, following the glowing line on the floor Demeter made for him. He found Lucy deep in the human living quarters.

"Oh! Desmond! Thank god you're here," she immediately attempted to hide behind him. He put himself between her and the hallway without thinking. She didn't want humans to see her, too many questions.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I— I can't do it," she confessed.

"Can't do what?"

She dropped her voice to a whisper, "Lie to these people about why I am seeking them," she said. "It just feels wrong."

"Seriously?"

"Well… _yes_," she sighed.

"Lucy, if we don't do this we have nothing. Less than nothing. We can't take the atoll with just us, no matter how cool we are. We need help."

"But these people… Desmond their just normal people trying to have as normal a life as they can. Not to mention when they look at me like they do I just… lock up. They trust me. I don't even have to do anything and they trust me. They love me," she looked away, ashamed. "I feel like I'm taking advantage of them."

"You're broadening their horizons. Some of them are just living, but this isn't a life Luce. They remember the surface. They remember their lives before this existence. Down here they're all scared of what's above, of their life. Surviving isn't living. But what we're doing gives them purpose. Real purpose."

"They'll die," she whispered. "We're going to kill them by taking them to the atoll, Desmond. You know they can't fight and won't be ready in just a few weeks. How long for we have before the end of October? Two weeks? Three weeks?"

"Then they will be heros we'll remember," Desmond said. "You know the humans in Demeter feel hopeless. Cocky from those plantation wins, but it just is so hopeless in the face of the proeathans. You're going to give them hope, and purpose."

"You think so?"

"I _know_ so. You're a goddess-

"I'm not," she protested.

"Only in your eyes," he said and she looked up at him in surprise. "Sorry, did I make it weird?"

"I— no. I just— its hard to think like that," she confessed.

He took both of her hands. "You are their savior. The one they deserve. Angel of the Lake. They want you to give them hope like they haven't had in years. To them you're a goddess, and that's what matters."

"You really believe that," Lucy said.

"I do," he said. "And once I get done here I'm going to speak with a demon woman who is supposed to be able to help me help you. Then you won't just be a paper Angel. I believe you can do things none of us can. Do you?"

"Sometimes."

"Just… sell it," Desmond said. "They love you. You don't even have to sell it hard." After a moment, she nodded.

"Demon woman?" she asked. "You don't mean Tiamat, do you?"

"No," Desmond said, releasing her hands. "Apparently I need to seek the guidance of a very important angel in an Apple. Lilith."

"Oh dear," Lucy said. "Well, when you say that it makes my unease much sillier."

He smiled at her, "Kinda. Now I believe in you. If nothing else, know that I believe you can do it."

She took a deep breath, "Okay. Thank you," she smiled back at him.

"Now. Demond lady. Wish me luck."

"Good luck," she said.

"You too," and then he left her there. He knew she'd do what they needed. Desmond needed to go do what he needed to do too. He headed for Venus.


	56. A Habitation of Dragons

Venus was a crypt. How many of the devices in here were vessels? How many humans were trapped in these hells of the making of the proeathans, forced to serve for eternity? He didn't know. He'd figure it out though, and free them. No one would have to suffer like this.

Venus showed him to the hoard of Apples and Desmond stood over them feeling foolish. The Angels in his Apples said to just call Lilith by name.

"Lilith," he said into the nothing around him. No. Not nothing. The angels said that they listened through their Apples, even in that state. He wasn't speaking to no one. He was speaking to _all_ of them. "Some of your brothers and sisters told me I needed to find you. I need your help. Show yourself."

A row away a device began to emit yellow light. Desmond looked at the Apples. They _had_ said Lilith was in an Apple right? Maybe they didn't know the difference in their states. Or maybe to them everything was an Apple. Regardless Desmond followed the light.

The light poured from a box. Desmond looked inside and within the box was… A cup? A really fancy cup sure. But just a cup. And it was big. Like big enough that Desmond would have to pick it up with two hands. It was made of the same silver material as the Apples, the outside perfectly smooth like the surface of a still lake. The inside was cut with the familiar line work of the proeathans. The lines glowed gold so the cup- goblet honestly, was literally overflowing with light.

Desmond reached into the box with both hands and picked the goblet out. The light show dimmed. How did he access the interface for this thing? He didn't even know _what_ it was.

"Uh, Venus," he said. "What is this?"

"A chalice," a female voice said. He didn't recognize it but realized he did. He'd heard it once, in Mercury. It was Venus. Her real voice.

"What's it do?"

"It is a luck eating device, used by the faceless. You fill it and confess your sins to it. It eats your luck, leaving only good luck behind. It's an unholy vessel we created to temper our luck." It sounded like a lot of horse shit honestly.

"So I put water in it and talk into it?"

"Saltwater," Venus said. "Or better yet brackish water. Or salt water mixed with blood. If the name you called for is truly in that vessel then I would go with the salt and blood. Lilith was that sort of woman."

"You know Lilith?"

"Stories of her. She was part of Eve's rebellion. She was very powerful, and deadly. Exercise caution around her, Desmond."

"I planned on it," and he held the chalice by his side and left Venus.

He went to one of Demeter's gardens and filled the chalice with salt water. He set it on the ground and held his hand over it. The smart material on his wrist shifted and slid up to his fingers, pricking three of them at the ends. Blood welled up at the tips and dropped into the calm water of the chalice with little plops. Desmond let himself bleed until the water was red before using the material to create a bandage around each finger tip to stem the bleeding.

Desmond leaned over the chalice. His face was reflected in the red surface. "Lilith," he said. "I need your help. I was told by Luss, Pind, and Hegrar that you could help me when they couldn't. So…" He sighed. "This is stupid," he muttered and leaned back. As he did the face in the cup changed. It went from his reflection to that of a woman. Desmond leaned back in surprise.

The woman in the cup had her eyes closed. She looked pretty normal honestly. Well as normal as someone from tens of thousands of years ago could look. She wasn't _ugly_ but she wouldn't have turned any heads in Desmond's time. He got the feeling, by the way she held her head, the way she tipped it just so, like she was looking down on you, that she'd been a beautiful woman for her time. Her lips were too thin, and the high cheekbones that were favored in his century weren't on this woman. She looked… homely. She had no skin. Well, not real skin. Instead her body looked like it was made of thick applications of paint put there by a pallet knife. Her blonde hair was like limp corn silk, limp and shiny and frail.

Desmond leaned back over the chalice slowly. "Lilith?" he asked her.

Her thin lips pulled into a smile, "It has been a long time since my name has been spoken by the living," and Desmond had trouble looking at her as she spoke. Her mouth moved but there was a delay with the sound of her voice. The two weren't synced and it was difficult to watch her talk. Not like she could see him, her eyes were closed.

"I was told you could help me."

"Mmmm, yes. Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"Why should I?"

"Because it'll be the first bit of purpose you've had since you died that wasn't to be used by the proeathans as their bullshit magic machine."

"Ah," she said, "a fair point, child. Perhaps I can help. What do you have for me?"

"I have a friend. She's different than the rest of us. She can do things-

"Is your friend proeathan?"

"No. She's human-

"_How_ human?" Lilith interrupted him again. She wasn't interested in his fumbling. She wanted the facts.

"She… is a synth."

Lilith said nothing for a few moments. "A synthetic human? They're still making those? Desperate for what we have they resort to this bastardization. Humorous," she spoke in a matter of fact dryness.

"Can you help her?"

Lilith's grin was devious, "Perhaps. For the right price."

Desmond sighed, "Of course. What is it?"

"I will not know if I can help your friend without meeting her," Lilith said. "But if you want me to meet her you must pay one price, and another for me to give her what I can."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Tell me what happened to my sister," Lilith said.

"Your sister? I don't know your sister-

"Eve!" Lilith cried. "Tell me what happened to Eve."

Desmond digested that. "You and Eve were sisters?"

"Through bond, if not by blood. Like they'd risk us forming large families. It could lead to our bloodlines running together too much. Brothers and sisters could lead to inbreeding," she scoffed. "Now tell me what happened to my _sister_," she hissed, eyes cracking a little but Desmond couldn't see what they looked like.

Desmond sat back and thought about how to break the news to Lilith. The others hadn't known that they'd won the war then. That their rebellion had been successful and it had been tens of thousands of years. How did he tell Lilith her friend had destroyed the world?

"Confess," Lilith said. "I can feel your fear, taste your sin. Confess."

"Your friend is dead," Desmond said blandly. "She died after she destroyed the world. She entered an ancient construct and wiped out a huge portion of intelligent life. The fallout of the even killed billions."

"But did she do it?" Lilith asked. "Did she free us?"

"Her actions led to humans becoming the dominant sapient life forms on Earth," Desmond said.

Lilith sighed in relief. "Then her death was meaningful. My death. Adam's death. All of us. And yet there are _still_ proeathans. What happened?"

"She sent them to sleep, she didn't kill them all. They came back. They're killing us. Enslaving us. I'm the _stadalla_."

"Oh? One in truth then? How quaint."

"Like Eve-

Lilith laughed. "Eve was never the _stadalla_. We just said that to get people to believe. To give her confidence. My sweet Eve… she didn't want what we wanted for her. She didn't have the flame within her to truly become _stadalla_, not the right stuff."

"So it was all a hoax? You used your friend? Someone you call sister?"

"Don't get it twisted boy," she said scornfully. "We were dying. A species at the brink of extinction. A few more decades and there'd be no more angels. The proeathans did their jobs well when they killed our goddess. They took our will, our fire. We submit to them and when there is no drive to protect, to fight, angels die. They fade away when the threat is gone."

Desmond chewed his cheek and leaned over the chalice. "Okay stupid question. What _is_ an angel?"

"A human psychic," she said.

"So like people who can use sight linked empathy?"

Lilith laughed. "No. Oh you _fool_," she scoffed. "A psychic! You have been fed _lies_ your entire life. Since the sun rose over the Unnamed and showed our forefather's Atlantis for the first time we have been fed lies.

"Lies that we are lesser. Lies that we are deaf. Lies that we have five major senses. Lies that we are born to make war, born to inflict violence on one another. That is the great lie the proeathans bred into us when we came to Atlantis so long ago and we believe. That we were _like them_.

"No. An angel is humanity's greatest creation. Born of our desire to protect and love one another. We are born when our people need to be protected from terrible threats. We are born to keep one another and to form great bonds. We are born when our people are listless and need direction to overcome the obstacles around us. We are for one another, and never for ourselves."

"I still… I don't understand," Desmond confessed.

"Drink," Lilith said.

"What?" he asked.

"Drink from my cup."

"That's salt water and my blood," Desmond grimaced.

"Do as I say. Drink," she said a third time.

Desmond hesitated and then he picked the goblet up. "What's going to happen when I do?"

"The chalice is an E'dn machine. It allows me to use my E'dn as I did in life in certain ways. For proeathans it allowed me to access their memory and take it."

"You're a telepath."

"All angels are telepaths," she said.

"Impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," she said. "A chalice eats luck. It eats memories of states of bad luck. A very powerful machine. But only when given access."

"So you want access to my brain?"

"Are you proeathan?"

"No?"

"For humans a chalice allows the weaker mind to enter the stronger."

"You think you're stronger?"

She chuckled. "Child. I _know_ I am. I was the angel who first saw dreamed the dream of the end of the proeathans during the Decline. The one who felt Samael and Azrael's betrayal at the hands of our slave masters the deepest." Desmond had no idea who either of those two were. "You have already entered the minds of greater beings already. Luss, Pind, Hegrar, they are greater than you."

"As great as you?" Desmond asked.

"Few were," she said proudly.

"And all I have to do is drink?"

"Yes."

Desmond still hesitated, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Do you think I lie?"

"In modern religion you're, basically, a demon. So yeah, kinda," he said, kinda teasing her.

"Oh. I like that," she said. "But fear not. To the proeathans I was a demon. To a human? Well I didn't help lead the rebellion for no reason."

Desmond looked at Lilith's face in the cup. The inner bowl was lit dimly by the grooves in the goblet. It was just salt water and blood. He'd really had grosser things in his mouth before. He knew it anyone else was here they'd probably knock the goblet out of his hand. But, they weren't and Desmond was desperate.

He drank deeply.

* * *

><p>Fair warning. Next chapter is gonna be a fucking info dump lols. Probably.<p> 


	57. The Mother of Owls

Desmond was in a White Room with Lilith. She was as before and unlike the angels in the Apples he could see her, could see her proper shapes and forms and knew her features. She was very tall for a woman. Nearly as tall as Desmond. He had to think that that bothered proeathans at the time, that a human woman was almost as tall as them. She kept her eyes closed even now.

"So. You going to make some sense now?" he asked her.

"Just because you're stupid doesn't mean I don't make sense," she said.

"Okay, I deserved that one," Desmond grudgingly allowed. "So if I'm stupid, educate me."

"This woman," Lilith said and he could feel her looking at him behind her eyelids. "You call her an angel, but you don't even know what one is. Others call her an Angel," he could hear the capital in her voice, to add authority to it maybe. "But its different. How ironic that you'd use it the way you do. Messengers of god," she almost sounded sad, or scornful even. "Not so far from the truth I suppose, in the end.

"I cannot tell through your mind if she is an angel or not. A proper angel. One of us, and not just hope. I will meet her, World Ender," she said.

"I'm not a world ender," Desmond growled.

"Oh? You're not? So you're _not_ a _stadalla_?"

"I am," he said.

"Then you are a World Ender. You…" she approached him and Desmond held still. She reached out and touched his face, fingertips light and gentle. Nothing had ever touched him in a White Room before. It jolted him mentally and he felt like he was about to burst apart. It felt like being back in his coma, in the Black Room. A tipping, sinking, enlightening, thrilling, feeling that rolled under his skin. She smiled a little. "Yes, a _stadalla_," she said softly. "And one of us."

"One of who?"

"Who did you come from? What is your heritage?"

"Uh… I'm from a legacy of warriors," he said, she wouldn't know what the Assassins were after all. "Dating back thousands of years."

She giggled, "Ah! That explains it then. I wouldn't have thought we'd have been born without the proeathan conflict to gestate us."

"I— What are you talking about?"

"What? You didn't guess? For all your great psychic power you didn't _realize_? Though… we're all dead now. No one would have known when they looked at you," she placed her hand on his chest and it was like he was standing in front of a huge speaker. He could feel her pulse against his skin, reverberating through his entire body. "The _stadalla_ was born angel this time," she said triumphantly.

Desmond blinked at her. "What? I'm not-

"Not what?" she asked. "Not a human psychic?"

"I mean, that's just because I can use the proeathan sixth sense?"

Her laugh was bell-like and made his head ring and ache like it was being pinged by a silver hammer. "You're the _stadalla_, you can use _both_ the _hotai_ and the E'dn, that is the point of you, stupid."

"What? _Hotai_?" he'd heard the word, knew it was related to the Unnamed, but not what it was. It and _stadalla_ were the two words that transcended language and existed the same in every proeathan nation-state.

Lilith tipped her face up slightly, like she was listening to something. "Much has been withheld from you," she said. "Or more like the proeathans believe their own lies about the nature of us. Pity," she patted his chest and each tap was a gong. "It falls to me then."

Desmond looked at her, "Seriously?"

"Well I can't have you running around without understanding yourself can I? Nor will I tolerate the _stadalla_ only knowing the _hotai_ and not his birthright."

"Okay," Desmond said slowly. "So, what's the _hotai_?"

"It is the proeathan psionic wavelength. It is through this that they accomplish all their great feats of power. But it is limited. The _hotai_ is a selfish power. It is limited to the self and concerning of the self. There are a few instances of it being used to see beyond itself but its rare."

"Like _hodori?" _Desmond asked.

She paused. "Yes," she said slowly, "like _hodori_. Proeathans use it to view themselves in the world. I can tell, from just _skimming_ your mind that you know many _sikaz_. All of them are about seeing aren't they?"

"I guess? The ones I've used. But I've heard of others, like _hodori_, and there's pyromancy-

"Have you ever _seen_ a proeathan pyromancer?" she asked him.

"Well… no," he admitted and then jumped when a wraith made of flame appeared next to Lilith. It was a proeathan, Netalian with their crisp black and red lines and sharp red makeup. Their black hair was a flame above their head and their body was a searing fire that rolled off and up their skin. It licked at their clothes and it looked like they'd been coated in gas. But they didn't scream in agony or fall to the ground in pain. Instead they just stood there like it was the most normal thing to be on fire.

"This is the pyromancer Martius, who fought during the end of the First War against us. He was a master at his craft. The High General liked to have his scouts find our camps and send Martius and his pyromantic brothers to set it aflame. He is responsible for the deaths of hundreds." The wraith proeathan shifted in stance, holding his hand out to Desmond and Desmond could feel the head on his face. "His favorite method of killing was to burn our faces off with his bare hands. His flames could burn so hot that he was immune to physical attacks and even shooting him did nothing. The bullets would melt before they made it to his skin and become consumed by the flame."

"Did you kill him?" Desmond swallowed.

"Yes," Lilith said. "But not before he'd killed many."

"How'd you kill a guy on fire who couldn't be killed?"

"We trained our own pyromancers," a human appeared. Not very tall, but with a serious demeanor. Martius faced the human and advanced on them. He extended his hand to them like he had to Desmond, to burn their face off. Then Martius was extinguished like someone had blown out a candle. "Proeathan pyromancers can call flames to themselves. They can ignite their bodies and anything they touch so long as it is connected to them through touch. But they cannot share their flame. They will set things on fire but not like we can."

"What do you mean?" Desmond asked, looking between Lilith and the two pyromancers. Pyromancers. Actual fucking pyromancers. It was insanity.

"Human pyromancers who resonate on our wavelength, the wavelength of the E'dn, use their pyromancy like all angels. We project." Desmond stepped back when the human held their hand out to Martius and a gout of flame sprang from their palm like a flamethrower, engulfing Martius. Now the proeathan did burn and fell to the ground in silent agony, writhing in it. "In this case, flame. The fire is not part of us, but we are connected to it. We are able to manipulate it _beyond_ us. A skilled human pyromancer can light a candle twenty feet away without ever touching it."

Desmond tore his eyes from the burning Martius back to Lilith. "How?"

"How?"

"How can we do things proeathans can't do?"

"Because we are different," she said proudly. "The proeathans would have everyone believe that they are the apex predators of the world. But tell me, what sort of predator is a strict herbivore? Proeathans evolved in the middle of the food chain where they came from, in the cold of the north land. They needed to protect _themselves_."

"Why?"

"Because they were prey," she said, like it was obvious. "Prey animals have a similar, but lesser, ability. They know when they are hunted. They can perceive the world around them in ways that hunters cannot. They stick to groups to protect themselves but in a do or die situation they'd rather keep themselves safe over others."

"And humans?"

"I'm sure you know by now. Or I'd hope we'd advanced enough for you to know, but we began in an inhospitable land where we had to work together to survive. In the cooler temperate lands the proeathans came from food was always abundant. For us, it was not. So we had to rely on one another to see ourselves through. We learned to hunt as a unit to take on bigger prey, protect ourselves from our competition until we simply began to outcompete. There were stories, stories you will never know, of humans hunting and tracking creatures thrice their size. Nothing no sane predator would do without extreme skill or the ability to cooperate. Its why lions and hyenas are so successful. They work as a pack. Just like humans.

"Unlike the proeathans our psionic abilities weren't to alert us to the dangers of being hunted. They were to hunt. To hunt you need to communicate across great distances. So the E'dn evolved in us to be our resource to connect with one another. To project to our fellows.

"In the time of angels, even as slaves, you could never be alone. Those of us with greater ability always… _felt_ one another. Once we'd freed ourselves of the shackles of slavery we even learned that in our species telepathy is fairly common along with the greatest gift our species has. Dream sharing. A grand global conscious that connects all humans together.

"By the look on your face you don't believe me and you've never experienced it."

Desmond blinked slowly. He was just trying to absorb it all. It was a lot to take in at once and he said as much. "How— how do you know all this?"

"Because it is the history we learned when we freed ourselves. The history the Goddess Saturn knew and learned when she entered the Unnamed and then went about to free us."

Desmond looked at her then down at himself, then back at her. "I'm an angel too?" he asked her.

"Any human with psionic abilities is an angel. You think it is the proeathan in you that gives your your power?" She scoffed. "No. It is the power that our people have had since we were first free. Power that the proeathans were so blind to and yet so _jealous_ of."

"Jealous? Why would they be jealous? Weren't they super advanced when we stumbled upon each other?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But if you had the power to read another's mind, to know their most intimate thoughts, to touch someone in a way that no one else could, to know the ins and outs of your lover's mind and there would never be any confusion or surprise in their actions-

"Stop reading my mind," Desmond growled through clenched teeth. Lilith's smile was sweet and coy and for a second he hated her. If she was a telepath and could skim his thoughts she knew for a brief instant he'd brought up Lucy to mind and their tryst from Spain to Mexico.

"Wouldn't you want that?" she asked. "The proeathans did. So they enslaved us and turned us into their play things. Even before my time the proeathans were known for their breeding programs. To get this trait from their favorite human, or see who could breed the best angels. Who could _suck up_ to the faceless and Atlantis enough to gain their favor with their best angels?

"All they succeeded in doing is turning us into them," she said. "We used to not look so alike you know. I saw pictures, part of my 'education' in my garrison while I was a slave, that included early drawings of humans when we first met the proeathans to show how uncivilized we were. To make it seem like we were nothing but _animals_. They bred that out of us, turned us to look more like them, to be visually appealing to _them_. The breeding also turned us from being fiercely dependent on one another, which led us to being born angels, to being dependent on them. Angels only exist because we need one another to keep each other safe and provide for us-

"And once you had proeathans doing that you didn't need angels anymore?" Desmond asked.

Lilith smiled cheerfully. "Yes. Exactly. All they succeeded in doing when they tried to _make_ more angels, to experiment on, to force to learn this disgusting _sikaz_, is make us less than we were. Proeathans say we had no sixth sense because we cannot do what they do. They force their _hotai_ upon us but we fail and we fail and we fail until we do something they can accept as power. Show me the power they convinced you was all humans had," she challenged.

Desmond hesitated and felt foolish but went into Eagle Vision. "You look like them," she said. "Disgusting," he quickly fell out of it. "Part of their grand plan I'm sure."

"Yes, actually, it was," Desmond said. "They created peoples with strong proeathan bloodlines, to carry through the centuries. Sixteen bloodlines, and when they all intermingled with enough potency they'd make the _stadalla_. Or something."

Lilith scoffed, "_Make_ the _stadalla_? The Adjatevs are bigger megalomaniacs than I expected. They thought they could engineer a god?"

"I'm not-

"Silence," she said. "You, like all _stadalla_, are a god."

"I'm no- wait. Did you say _all_ _stadalla_?"

"I did."

"There were others?"

"Yes. Of course."

"How many?"

"Sixteen," she said calmly. "Sixteen times in the history of the proeathans that their way of life has shifted so profoundly that it was christened the end of the world, and the beginning of a new era, the bridge between states of chaos."

"But the proeathans made it sound like I was the one?"

"Oh they would," she said. "If they engineered a sacrifice like you I'd want them to think they were the biggest mistake in the world too."

"What?" Desmond breathed.

"So they could control you. They engineered your existence- perhaps not _your_ existence Desmond, but the existence of a being like you- to be their sacrifice. But to give so much weight to a human? It must have burned them so," she purred, gentle delight in her voice. "They would want you to think that your existence is the great mistake of the world. That your existence is a burden, a trial, an agony. Tell me, does it feel like it is?"

Desmond hesitated, "Yeah. Sometimes," he admitted.

"Tell me, when did you learn you were so special? From who?" She waited until he confessed. When he did it was about Altair, the Apple that corrupted him, Altair seeing him through centuries. The entire experience with his family, the Templar, and found himself just telling her everything. He showed her his sins and she listened without asking for more, without prompting his words. She just stood there, listening to his tale of how he came to be.

They stood in silence when Desmond was finally done. Then she smiled and it was so sad and angry and amused. "You must understand. What the proeathans did to us in here. When they forced us into these vessels. It is an agony. The reason my brothers and sisters are so hateful and furious and twist everything they touch is because the proeathans made them into this shape. A vessel is a conduit to force the E'dn to be enacted. It magnifies our natural powers and allows those without those abilities to use them. It allowed proeathans to use the E'dn in limited ways but it was always difficult, it was why they were mainly tools of angels.

"But the future we see in these vessels, twisted by hate and rage and pain, is disconnected. Before the Quiet, when we were still slaves, the collective mind of humans could see into the future with unerring accuracy. It was our minds working together collectively that created this clear image. But through a vessel- an Apple, you can only see what that one angel can see. And one mind in the state we are in cannot get a clear image. The future," she paused a moment, collecting her thoughts on how to best explain what she wanted to say.

"Some would explain time like a river, others, like a fabric. It isn't. We are made of atoms and those atoms are made of particles, those particles exist in every moment of time from the beginning of the universe to the end. Time is the shape of life and we exist in every instant of it. Seeing into the future isn't just being able to see the future, its able to predict where and _when_ those particles will exist and in what shape and how they will be. True future sight is a snap shot, a single instant captured when we pinpoint those specific particles in that place in time. Does that make sense?"

"I…" Desmond grimaced. "No. Sorry? I mean yes, but no? I'm not really so good at this kinda stuff," he admitted. "I just kinda go punch things people tell me to punch and try not to get myself killed."

She chuckled. "What I am trying to say is that when we view the future alone it is imperfect. It is why your Altair saw what he saw. He only saw through the lens of one angel and it could only see what the proeathans predicted would happen. Proeathans view time as a loop, a mobius loop. Things have a start, the _stadalla_, and they have an end."

"Also the _stadalla_," Desmond said.

"Heh, indeed. For them the future is always a fixed point. For them the future will _always_ show the _stadalla_, because they know nothing else. Within these… _prisons_, that's all they can see. This false future of the _stadalla_ who brought about the end of the war humanity wages against itself, who ended and era, and brought back the proeathan. But had they been able to connect with even one other vessel the future would have looked very different. It would have been more clear, closer to the truth of time."

"That's why Cain says Apples lie?"

"About the future, yes," she nodded.

"Okay, maybe stupid question. How come I can only do some things with an Apple I can't do, say, by myself?"

"Such as?"

"Invisibility?"

"What sort of invisibility?" she asked, not at all sarcastic.

"There's more than one sort?"

"Yes, of course. Proeathans can't become invisible without forcing obedience from a vessel. Humans can use two types. Light bending, a type of telekinesis, very rare, and augmenting the way they're perceived by others through empathetic receptors. Much more common. Quite literally you're invisible by projecting, very loudly and firmly, telepathically, that you're invisible."

"Like when you cover your eyes and pretend no one can see you because they can't see you?"

"Exactly!"

"I don't think I've ever done that," he admitted. "Not even with an Apple. You make it sound like it doesn't work with things that aren't me?"

"Its more difficult to make people not see things that aren't yourself, yes," Lilith said.

"And you can probably see yourself when you do that?"

"Yes."

"But light bending? You can't see anything?"

"It can turn anything, everything, invisible to the naked eye. You, things not apart of you, others."

Desmond rocked back on his heels a bit and looked at Lilith helplessly. "Well, sign me up for light bending cause I used to do that all the time with an Apple without even really trying," he huffed.

For the first time Lilith seemed lost for words. "Really?" she asked.

"I think so? Every time I used invisibility I couldn't see myself, and I made other things disappear too. Like a motorcycle."

"That… is amazing," she said. "There are few recorded light benders. To have that level of control over telekinesis to affect photons is extraordinary."

"Yeah that about sums up my existence," Desmond said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He suddenly felt selfconcious about his abilities when Lilith, a powerful ancient angel from the First War, laid the praise on so thickly.

"But you can't do it without the assistance of a vessel?"

"No. But then, no one ever taught me."

"I… don't believe I could," she admitted and then laughed. "Saturn," she said it like people spoke of God, "I'm just a Cain, I don't know the first thing about light bending."

There was that word again. Not a name, a word. Cain. "What's that?" Desmond asked.

"What's what?"

"A Cain. You said you were a Cain. My… friend, I guess," he shrugged and grimaced at the same time, "his name is Cain. When he told the others that they sneered and made it seem like, I don't know, that he was lying. Or he was acting stupid."

"Cain, hmm," she rose her eyebrows at him and he knew she was looking into his mind. "A half breed," she sneered a bit. "He is not an angel, he could never be a Cain. Wishful thinking I'm afraid. But skilled in other ways… my, he sees through the _hotai_ at all times? That must be exhausting. If nothing else I acknowledge his skill for that, his endurance."

"But what's a Cain?" Desmond pressed.

"A very dangerous thing," Lilith said. "We agreed that when the First War was over we would train no more pairs of Cains. Its too destructive."

"Pairs?"

"Yes, of course. Every Cain needs an Abel- oh. Oh that's adorable," she cooed and then straight from his mind appeared the illusion of Altair and Cain. Lilith tipped her head at them. "Couldn't be a real Cain, so he made himself into one. Even fashioned himself an Abel. Quaint."

"You going to tell me what they are?" Desmond growled.

Lilith turned to Desmond, "We're probability weavers," she said bluntly. "We affect the causality of the universe. One of us goes out and upsets the balance of the world, the Abel, and then the Cain goes and simulates their murder to bring balance back to the universe." Desmond felt like he'd just been tipped on his head.

"_What_?" he stressed. "How is that even possible?"

"No idea," she smiled. "But we can. Proeathans can peel back reality and view the world in auras and some even learned to see in wavelengths our eyes were not originally designed for like ultraviolet and gamma. I heard of proeathans who had perfected the _sikaz_ of staring into the abyss of space and _seeing_ planets that circled distant stars."

"That's impossible. Not even our strongest telescopes can do that," Desmond insisted.

"And yet it is so. Who knows why Earth was gifted with two hyper gifted dominant species, but it was. Maybe it was a fluke. Who knows."

"I… I need to sit down a second," and Desmond did. He looked up at the illusions of Cain and Altair. "Did— did Cain turn Altair immortal somehow?"

"I wouldn't know," Lilith said.

"You said he made himself an Abel. He calls Altair Abel… Christ, did Cain know what he was calling himself?"

"Possibly," she said. "If he had any records of the First War that mentioned the types of angels the United Army went against during our final conflict then he'd know of Cains. He'd know what we were capable of."

Desmond rubbed the top of his head. "And who was _your_ Abel?"

She frowned, sad. "A man I loved who didn't love me. His name was Samael."

"Not Adam?"

"_Adam_?" she scoffed. "I didn't even bother to know him other than Eve thought he was _soooooo dreamy_," she mocked. "She always had horrible taste in men. Stupid as a dog and twice as hard to train. Best thing that ever happened to him was being forced into that vessel."

"How can you say that? You just said yourself, its a hell."

"Because at least he was useful," she said scornfully. "In life all he did was hold Eve _back_. She was such a nice girl, but too gentle. Adam made her weak, unable to do what needed to be done. Once he was out of the picture things changed. She was angry."

"Love makes you do crazy shit," Desmond said.

"Yes, it does," she said and he thought she sounded somewhat guilty.

"What about control? People have been using Apples to bend people to their will for centuries," he said after they'd stayed in silence for a short while.

"Unintended exploitation of our power. The E'dn is a sharing power. It allows us to connect to one another. It also allows us to exert our will on others. But we would never do that. To use the E'dn in such a way would have been against the very principle of the thing."

"Then why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can we do it?"

"All powers have useless things associated with them," she said.

Desmond leaned back and looked up at the endless white-ness. "I think I use the E'dn like that," he said after a longer time. "Not on purpose, but I do. When everyone is trying to talk to, or over me, I just go 'be quiet' and they stop. I've always kinda been able to do it. That make me a bad angel?"

"Manipulative perhaps, untrustworthy definitely, but bad? I've never known the sort," she said slyly.

"Huh," Desmond was silent again. "Lucy's an angel. I realize that now. She can see things that are invisible. Who knows what else. Pluto knew she was capable of it. I need you two to meet, you're going to train her, in however a way you can."

"And what about you?"

"Me?"

"Shall I train you as well? I admit what you may be able to do fully will be beyond my full scope to teach but the basics are all the same."

"Will that lessen my other abilities?"

"I don't see why."

Desmond tapped his foot thoughtfully. "I can do that thing. That thing proeathans can do where they peel back reality. I see people for what they are, under their skin, under their bodies and blood, into their soul. Or something. When I look at some humans they share their soul, others do not."

"That is the taint of what remains of the proeathan blood in their bodies," she said. "And that sharing is what you _should_ see. We connect, we share, we give."

"Except not Lucy," he continued. "She doesn't exist in that sight. Any ideas?"

"Proeathan _sikaz_ see proeathan things. If you cannot see Lucy that means she is not proeathan. It means that— Saturn praise. It means she's the first pure human there's been since we were enslaved hundreds of thousands of years ago."

"You think so?"

"Its the only answer I have. I was not skilled at the forced _sikaz_ the proeathans made us learn to be 'useful'. I have limited understanding of them."

"Hmmm. Okay," Desmond got up. "I need to leave now. I need to go get her. I'm sure she'll _love_ you."

"Sarcasm isn't becoming World Ender."

Desmond's eye twitched. "Right. Get me out of here. You and I got work to do."

"Very well. Keep me safe."

Desmond opened his eyes. He was lying slightly spread eagle on the floor. Lilith's goblet was held limply in his hand. Above him was Hawk's concerned face. "Little Bird," he said, it didn't sound like the first time he'd tried to wake Desmond.

Desmond breathed deeply, waking in a single breath. "Hawk? What are you doing here?"

"Demeter called me. She said you drank from that goblet and have been passed out for hours. She was worried. Are you okay?" he reached out and touched Desmond with more gentleness than Desmond realized the broken man had in him.

"I'm fine," he said and sat up. Hawk moved out of the way. "I just—" he looked at the chalice. "I was talking to someone. A very old someone. I need— I need to find Lucy, right away," he said and got up. His legs wobbled a little but he stayed upright.

"You sure you're okay?" Hawk asked, putting a hand on his back as he also stood.

"Yes. Fine. Sort of," he looked at the chalice again. "I met an angel. You'd like it, probably," he said.

"Why would I?"

"Cause she knows shit, and you love knowing shit," Desmond said. "Now. Lucy. Demeter, has Lucy seen all my new recruits?"

"The humans, yes," Demeter said. "They were all ready to serve the Angel of the Lake."

"Great. Take me too her. We got a date with a demon lady," he hefted the chalice.

"Desmond," Hawk put his hand on his chest as he made to walk away.

"Yeah?"

"You sure… you're okay?"

"Yeah? Why wouldn't I me?"

"Your eyes kid," he said, concern clouding every word.

"What about my eyes? They blue or gold or something?"

"No-

"Then what's the problem?"

Hawk took the goblet and filled it with water. "Look," he pulled Desmond's face over the water. The liquid grew still and Desmond could see his reflection. His eyes were blacked out. No sclera. No iris. Just an empty void. Desmond jerked back, spilling half the water in the goblet.

"The fuck?" he looked back into the cup. His reflection stared back at him, his eyes remained black. He reached over the water and let the band knick his wrist. Several fat drops of blood fell into the water. "Lilith, show yourself. What the hell did you do?"

"I?" her voice came from the water and Hawk's eyes were huge when she appeared as Desmond's reflection. "I did nothing. As I told you, you are an angel." She opened her eyes for the first time. They were dark voids. No sclera, no iris. They pierced the world like a scalpel and left nothing in return. "Now you finally look like one."

* * *

><p>Heron sometimes you're brilliant and then sometimes I'm just like 'wtf where did she even <em>come up with that<em>?' Hopefully this'll help with the… everything.

Or not. Like I said: info dump. Its all there. Dissect it and freak out about it or w/e

If you are confused about anything here pls, just reread it. I put this entire… _mess_ into about as simple terms as I possibly could. So before you ask the 10,000 questions, just close the tab, leave it alone for a few hours, and read it again later.


	58. Call the Choir

ya'll about to feel real silly for freaking out about nothin'

* * *

><p>There was an eerie silence between them. "What?" Desmond asked.<p>

Lilith chuckled, "Proeathans have their eyes, so do we."

"Well I'm not doing anything. How do I go back?"

"Focus, child," she said sternly. "You are projecting now. Look around you." Desmond did. "I opened the tap that has been closed for so long. Focus, bring it in." Around Desmond the lights were flickering. No. Not flickering. The lights were staying the same. Desmond was _bending_ the light. When light was bent away from his eyes and not allowed to hit his retina it appeared as flickering light.

"What did you do to me?" Desmond asked. "How can I do this?"

"You have _always_ been able to do this. You simply didn't know you could. You told me you were a telekinetic, so I opened that pathway first. Now be silent. Focus. Draw your mind back in. Organize the chaos."

Desmond looked back down at Lilith and then at Hawk who was staring up at Desmond rather fearfully. They were both flickering in and out of sight. He couldn't control the light bending. Desmond realized that he was also probably flickering for _them, _or maybe parts of him were as photons failed to enter their eyes from Desmond directing it elsewhere. No wonder Hawk had been so worried about him. He closed his eyes and focused. He did what he did when his glyphs started to get out of control. He pulled it back. When he opened his eyes the lights were still.

"Better," Lilith said. "The proeathans taught you one thing if nothing else; focus. Now look into the Chalice."

Desmond did. His eyes were back to normal. "So humans get all scary as shit when we use the E'dn," Desmond said.

Lilith's face reappeared. "Indeed. Proeathans tighten and focus their perception of the world, condensing it to a single point; themselves. We expand our perception until we fill an entire room. Now go. Find me this Angel and we will see if she is an angel in truth."

"Right," and Desmond threw the rest of the blood colored water onto the grass. He looked at Hawk who was staring at him, wide eyed. "Yeah?"

"Please don't do that again. You had me worried," Hawk said sincerely.

"Sorry," Desmond said. "Gonna have to. Now. Demeter, take me to Lucy."

"Of course, Desmond," she said and Desmond and Hawk left together. They separated and Desmond went to track Lucy down.

—

Unsurprisingly he found Lucy in the nursery. There she was reading a story book to a group of children. He smiled when he saw her and went right up to them. She looked up at him then held up a finger for him to wait. He sat down at the edge of the group and listened to her read the rest of the story.

Once she was done she said goodbye to the children and Desmond joined her closer to the door. "So?" she asked, "How was your talk with the demon lady?"

"Great," Desmond showed her the Chalice. "Your turn next."

"What? Desmond I don't-

"I can't train you," he said. "I want to, but I can't. Lilith can. She's… amazing Lucy. Like beyond anything I've seen in any human. She's like Tiamat. She knows things we don't know and won't ever, unless we ask. She wants to meet you too. And I think I have an idea."

"About?"

"Those people we've found."

"Well? What is it?"

He smiled hugely. "They're angels, Lucy," he said. "That thing I thought was different about them, that you saw on the screen. They're angels."

"What's… that mean?"

"It means they're psychics. Like me. Like you. Like… like the proeathans but different."

"Desmond. You're way too excitable right now and are hard to understand," she said patiently.

He laughed. "Sorry. Sorry. It just is exciting! Oh man its so exciting. I already know what to do. What we're going to do. How we're going to keep all these people, or at least most of them, alive when we go to the atoll," he grabbed her arm.

"What's that?"

"I'll explain once you meet Lilith. C'mon." He grabbed her hand and led her out of the nursery to a private garden. "Demeter, make sure we aren't disturbed. If we stay in there too long have someone come get us though."

"Desmond," Demeter said. "I'd like to formally protest what you're doing."

"Yeah, why?"

"It concerns me."

"Why?"

"Because I worry for your safety," she said gently.

Desmond looked at Lucy a second. "Noted," he said. "But this is the beginning of something amazing Demeter."

"Or another apocalypse," Pluto put it.

"Just what we need," Hera said without sarcasm. "The world was left to rot under the humans. But the proeathans did not care for it either. It has been long enough. The luck of the Seventeenth is about to come to fruit. An apocalypse is what we need."

"Thanks," Desmond said, a bit unsure.

"She's saying she believes in you," Lucy told him. "She just does it weird."

Desmond chuckled a little. "All right," he said. "Demeter, salt water." A short time passed before a small tank came up from the floor. Desmond filled the Chalice and sat on the ground. Lucy sat opposite him and he put it between them. "Hold out your hand," he said and squeezed his hand. The band around his wrist shifted and became a knife in his hand.

"What are you going to do?"

"Its a proeathan machine. It needs blood," he explained. She extended her hand and he gently cut the tip of one of her fingers. He then dunked it into the salt water before cutting his own. He held his finger over the water and let the blood drip in. Lucy followed his example. "Lilith, I brought the angel," he said.

Her face appeared in the water and Lucy leaned back, startled, just like Desmond had. "I know," she said, her eyes were closed again and she wore a warm smile. "I can tell."

"This is Lilith?" Lucy asked.

"Yes," Desmond said. "She's going to help you- us. All of us."

"Just as I did for Eve before I was forced into this shape," Lilith said.

"Okay," Lucy said slowly. "So. What do we have to do?"

"Drink," Lilith said.

"That's disgusting and unsanitary," Lucy said, seemingly before she could stop herself.

"You are a woman are you not?"

"Well, yes?" Lucy was confused.

"Then we both know around men you have had-

"Okay okay I get it!" Lucy cried.

"What?" Desmond asked.

"She was making a bad dick joke," Lucy said, her face a bit red.

Desmond blinked. "Oh… _oh_," he said. "Lilith that wasn't nice."

"Weren't you the one who said I was a demon of myth now? Now drink, and we may begin. Let us see what miracle this woman is."

Lucy looked at Desmond uneasily. "I don't know," she said.

"I'll drink first," Desmond said and picked up the goblet. "Lilith don't let me drop you."

"I would never," she said as he took a swallow of the salt and blood. He managed to hand it to Lucy before he whited out again.

—

When Desmond came to he and Lucy were lying side by side on the grass. Above them was a ring of faces. Desmond's AI. They looked down at him with serious expressions and ones of concern. He looked over and saw Lucy also coming to, blinking awake slowly. He looked up at Demeter. "How long were we in there?"

"Long enough that I was about to summon Altair or Cain," she said.

Desmond groaned as he sat up. He had a massive headache. "How long?"

"Eight hours," she said. "Your previous foray was only three."

"Yeah well we were busy." He looked down at Lucy. She hadn't moved from where she lay and was just staring upwards. "Lucy, you okay?"

She closed her eyes and her lips pulled into a smile. A few tears trickled out of her eyes. "I have never been better," she said. He'd never heard her sound so happy. So calm and at peace with herself. With anything. Then she abruptly sat up and grabbed his hand. "It makes so much sense now why people follow me," she beamed at him.

Desmond smiled back at her. "Yeah," he agreed. "Though I can't wrap my tongue around what the hell Lilith said you were. I think her English couldn't figure that out from our brains."

Lucy giggled, "No," she agreed. "Now, what was your idea for the humans we've recruited?" she asked, eyes bright. For a second he couldn't speak. For a second she looked like how he used to see her but without the filter of obsessive love. She was happy and maybe for the first time since she'd been created, loved what she was. For the first time seemed to accept herself and really realize that she was herself. That she wasn't Lucy Stillman 2.0 and wholly and truly her own person. She was so beautiful and Desmond's tongue felt like lead in his mouth.

He cleared his throat. "The people I chose. They're angels too. Maybe not from Lilith, but they could all _learn_ to use the E'dn too. If we could teach them, that means we'd have a force of _angels_ when we go to the atoll. They wouldn't even have to do any fighting. Proeathans are scared of angels after what we did at Toba. The possibilities for what we can do."

Lucy looked down at the Chalice. "I wouldn't want to submit them to a woman like Lilith," she said.

"Nor I," Desmond nodded.

"If I may," Morpheus suddenly interrupted.

"Yeah?" he looked up at the dark clad hologram of a would-be god.

"Apples were not simply used as weapons. As you have seen through the misuse Hawk did to Jacob they can be used to _teach_ as well. Not through the Bleeding Effect, but directly, as the three angels have been helping you, Desmond," he said.

Desmond blinked, "I never even thought of that."

"There are so many things you do not know and will not because there is not enough time," Morpheus said. "But we know things. I believe it is time we stopped keeping them from you."

"It could be dangerous Morpheus. You have seen what humans are like-

"I have," he interrupted Mercury. "Which is why I am saying this. Do not act innocent. We made them this way, so we should take responsibility for what our younger sibling species does not know. That is our duty as the original caretakers of this world, not to enslave those lesser than us."

"This mean you're gonna be level with me now?" Desmond asked him.

"I have been silent for a long while, _stadalla_," Morpheus said, his voice gently echoey. "But I feel it against my nature to remain so. Protector of children. And what are all you humans but children of this world?" He gazed at the others. "I think you all could be reminded of your natures and help _more_," half of them didn't meet his eyes. "Any questions you have, Desmond, I will answer, even if others will not, or cannot."

Desmond smiled a little, "Thanks Morpheus. I appreciate it." He turned back to Lucy. "We could do that then. The angels in the Apples are intense but not like Lilith. I could talk to them, make them cooperate with us."

"And what about the proeathans we're taking with us?"

"Protectors? Most of them are just good at fighting and have the fighting future sight," then he started to think. "It'd be pretty demoralizing to be attacked by your own people wouldn't it? I'll wear Od down and bring more proeathans with us. But they'll just be there to fight once we've made a beach head."

"Of good. Cause the suicide mission idea was basically the dumbest idea I'd ever heard," Pluto said.

"Well you weren't helpful at all Mr. Grand General," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"Did you _ask_ for my help? No. You just wandered around coming up with stupid plans all on your own," Pluto said.

"He has a point," Lucy said.

"All you. Get," Desmond waved his hand, they disappeared. "So nosey. Alright. So I need to have a meeting with the Apples and get them to agree to help us. Once I do you can have the humans, and our proeathans come together and get them train."

"And what will you be doing for this?"

"What I do best," Desmond said with a grin. "Causing trouble."


	59. Building a Nest

Lucy had made the choice of where everyone would have the first meeting. It was strictly for humans. No proeathans allowed. Not yet at least. It was part of the plan. Lucy had picked a normal room, no gardens today, but one with comfortable chairs. Probably a good idea for today. Desmond had made sure Demeter also provided _ample_ bins for vomiting. He suspected there would be some before the day was over.

She was sitting in one of the chairs, waiting for everyone to show up. Apparently there was a level of excitement amid the humans when they'd heard the Angel of the Lake had chosen some of them for this meeting. A buzz Desmond had fully expected and left Lucy feeling nervous and uneasy. In front of her were three times as many vessels as people Desmond had chosen. Not just Apples today. But others. Swords, Ankhs, Shrouds, Scepters, and others. He'd gone into Venus and just started picking them at random putting them into a duffel bag by feeling alone.

He'd spoken to all the vessels already, using that crystal sphere Cain had first used to join Pind, Hengar, and Luss to help teach Desmond dream sharing. There had been a great deal of denial about 'new angels' but they'd all agreed, for the same desire; that Desmond destroy them once it was over. Desmond planned on destroying every vessel he could get his hands on once the war was over, but they hadn't needed to know that. It made his life easier if he could just promise something he was going to do anyway.

The vessels were quiet, not even interacting when near one another. They were waiting.

Desmond leaned against the chair Lucy was sitting on, playing with the smart matter in his palm, making it run through different shapes at will, appearing bored and unaffected. It made quite a convincing show for the ten people already there. They were waiting for the other ten, these people had just arrived early. Leaning on the chair Desmond knew he cut a rather intimidating form, dressed all in black, with a hood that obscured most of his face, playing with some sort of malleable black material that sometimes turned into a knife. Especially next to Lucy, who was dressed in blue and white, her hair pushed back from her face. She sat in the chair like a queen. Desmond had had to give her like three pep talks to get her like that too. She was strong, but people, especially people who loved her unconditionally, intimidated her. Looking at her now, poised and statuesque, you'd have never known.

It was all painfully deliberate, to set a tone, which was as important as what they were going to do here. Normal people wouldn't notice it. It was amazing what normal people _didn't_ notice.

The rest of the people trickled in till it was all twenty of them. Desmond only glanced at them, as though already bored with them. Lucy stood up from the chair and everyone keyed into it, getting a bit more attentive. "Thank you for coming," she said gracefully. Desmond knew how many times she'd practiced what she was going to say. This was important. They were _running out of time_. They had about four weeks maximum to train these people and it was important that it happened and that they weren't stuck here spinning their wheels like they had been with wasting all that time with the human and proeathan volunteers. "You've all been chosen for a very special reason." Desmond looked at the humans again. Everyone except John were bright eyed and amazed. He was the only one with reservations. Not that Desmond blamed him. He smelled a ploy when he knew it.

"And that is a special mission," Lucy continued. "Normally I would undertake this alone, but this is too big for me. I need help. This is where you come in."

"How could we help you?" Des smirked a little when John asked the question Lucy had practically begged. John was a soldier, an Assassin, and knew the acts. John knew when commanders threw a lead and needed someone to take it. Desmond saw the same question written on everyone else's face but only John had been brave enough to ask.

"Each one of you is a very special individual," Lucy said and took a step aside to the table with the vessels on it. She picked up a Sword and it shimmered in her hand. "With abilities that have long been hidden. The proeathans would have us believe we're weak. Stupid. _Cattle_." Disdain rippled through the little group. "But that's wrong, isn't it?"

"Yeah," someone muttered and some nodded their heads.

"It is wrong," Lucy agreed. "Which is why I've chosen you. We are _not_ cattle, we are _not_ weak." She hefted the Sword a bit before putting it down. "Forget everything you know about us, about proeathans. Today you will learn truth, and we will be _smarter_ than the proeathans. Today we start to make you strong, to be able to stand beside me.

"But right now, you are weak. We're fixing that. Right now. These are the vessels," she motioned to them. "Powerful artifacts of our people."

"I thought they were proeathan," someone pointed out.

"Lies," Lucy assured them. "They would have you believe it to keep us down. So that we wouldn't know how to fight back. No, the vessels they made were always ours. Its time to take them back.

"You will come to the table and take a vessel. As you can see there are _many_ vessels. More than you. I want you to pick the one that _feels_ right."

"How will we know?" someone asked.

"You will know," Lucy promised. Desmond disengaged from the chair and went to stand on the other side of the table as Lucy said, "Do not rush your choice. If you have to pick up every vessel to find the one that suits you, do so. Now, come forward," she beckoned.

They hesitated. John stepped up first. Good ole' John. He went to the table and looked right at Desmond. Desmond's grin wasn't nice and he expanded his senses. Around him appeared all the minds trapped in the vessels, standing around him on his side of the table. Swords in knightly armor, Scepters in great robes, Shrouds wrapped in muslin like a cloud. All of them brimming in fury and impotence. They couldn't see him, but he could perceive their existence as easily as he could see John. What he really wanted though was for his eyes to change.

He knew they had when John jerked back in surprise.

"Chose," Desmond said and when he spoke it was like a promise.

John looked at the array of vessels. "How?" John asked. Desmond didn't answer. John looked to Lucy.

"Trust your gut," Lucy said. "That is _your_ sixth sense telling you it is the one. Another may join him," she added, coaxing the other humans forward. They came forward slowly and were all equally intimidated by Desmond's pitch black eyes.

The woman Jessica Crane picked her vessel up immediately. It was a Scepter and when she held it it threw out a brilliant light show. In Desmond's vision the apparition he could see glowed as well. There were a various 'oohs' from the others. "It supposed to do that?" Jessica asked.

"Yes," Lucy said. "It means that vessel _chose_ you. It connects with you on a level that these others don't."

"Connects with me how?" she asked warily.

"It does the same thing you can do," Lucy said. That didn't seem to make much sense to Jessica. "Come with me, I will show you," Lucy said and guided Jessica away.

Desmond stood where he was. "What are you doing?" John asked him in a whisper. "What happened to you?" Desmond didn't answer either question.

"Chose," Desmond said again instead. John scowled at him.

"I found one," someone said and Desmond looked. They were a woman in their mid twenties. Her name was Heather Boul, she had a Sword. The entire blade turned golden. Hushed talking started among the people. Now that two people had found their vessel they were more interested in finding their own. John moved away from Desmond, going down the table, to find his vessel.

Over the next several minutes the entire group picked up their vessel. Lucy had since come back from being with Jessica. "Everyone find one?" Lucy asked them. There were nods and 'yes's. "Good," then she looked at Desmond and nodded. Desmond needed about five seconds to shift his focus from seeing all the vessel projections, which he'd only done to get the black eyes, to light bending. He made the table and the rest of the vessels all vanish in a blink that made a few people start.

"What did he just do?" one of them asked.

"He made it disappear," Lucy said, her voice a touch proud of him. Desmond was proud too. He'd only been at this a week and a half with Lilith and was already leaps and bounds above what he'd previously been capable of. He could light bend nearly at will now, and other stuff of course.

"Is he like us? You chose him?"

"No," Lucy said, "he does what he wants. I can't seem to get rid of him."

"Where would the fun be in that?" Desmond asked and practically slithered around the group to stand next to Lucy. He very disrespectfully put his elbow on her shoulder. It would have been comedic since she was so much shorter than her if everyone didn't look _furious_ with him.

"Bah, go away. I'll deal with you later," Lucy waved him off.

"Aww, sending me off Angel?" he teased and smirked at her. He watched her eyes and knew she had to keep her face in check from smiling at him. It was pretty silly but no one seemed to catch on to the act but them and John who thankfully said nothing.

"Yes, be gone," she waved her hand at him again and Desmond bent light around himself and vanished. A few people gasped.

"Did you do that?" one asked.

"Send him away? Yes," she said. "Now, the next thing we have to do with your vessels is learn to access them to get at the knowledge inside. Everyone find a place to sit, I'll walk you through it."

As Lucy talked the humans through entering the White Room and helping those who struggled to do so, Desmond went and collected the forty or so unused vessels and put them back into the duffle he'd used.

"What are you doing?" John's voice asked him softly. Desmond looked around then down at himself. He and the vessels and the bag were all invisible. "I can hear it," he said.

"Why aren't you doing as the Angel says?"

"This is pointless," John said.

"John," Desmond said patiently, not caring Lilith would be _furious_ with him if she knew he'd done what he was about to do. "Go find somewhere to sit and listen to the Angel of the Lake. I'm going to need you to be the example," he said through the E'dn.

"Fine, whatever kid," John huffed and went to go hear from Lucy. Desmond finished packing up all the vessels and putting them away. Demeter opened a hole in the floor and Desmond dropped the bag into it. She'd ensure they were kept safe until Desmond collected them later and returned them to Venus' ship. As they left his hand he released the shifting photons around it and it became visible again. Then he went and sat away from them and dropped the cloak. His head was _pounding_.

Skilled and powerful he was he was still learning and between the e'dn and all the _sikaz_ Desmond's head was full to the point of bursting. Extended use of any psychic power, regardless of origin, left him with a migraine a mile wide. It'd started when Lilith had begun training him, teaching him, better than Luss, Hengar, and Pind, knowing what he needed to do what was needed. Anything over a few minutes and he'd have to do it through pain. He could do it of course, but he didn't like it exactly. Lucy didn't suffer like he did. Lilith said it was because his brain was trying to do so much at once, and doing things that strained even normal people. Also he was new at it. Lilith thought that in time the migraines would go away, he just needed practice.

Desmond looked out at the others and Lucy. Twelve had vomited and Lucy was reassuring them that it was normal, speaking soothingly to them and coaxing them to try again. More vomiting. Half an hour passed before Lucy had everyone in their vessel with their angelic teacher. Once there there wasn't anything she could do for them.

She went over to Desmond and sat next to him on the floor. After a moment he sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "This is crazy," she said.

"It isn't crazy. Its a miracle," Desmond said with a slight grin. "You did it," he patted her knee reassuringly.

"But what if they can't—

"They can. They were born to do this, just like you. Their bodies _want_ to do this, its the natural state of it. A state we've pushed away and ignored for too long."

Lucy nodded and they sat in silence a few minutes. "This mission to the atoll. Will they be ready?"

"I hope so," Desmond said. "We're running out of time."

She looked at them, "And you're okay with them? That they might hate you?"

"I don't care, really," Desmond shrugged. "As long as they'll follow you, they don't need the full truth."

"What do you think we'll get?"

"Hopefully a pyromancer," Desmond said. "At least one. Probably a couple of illusionists. If we aren't lucky we'll get someone like Lilith."

"But isn't Lilith powerful?"

"Yeah. She also told me they wouldn't train anymore Cains. Not that I blame her. Ability to alter the causality of the universe? That's pretty dangerous."

"Still seems ridiculous."

"What is so advanced from what you can understand appears as magic," Desmond said.

She gave him a look, "Don't misquote at me," she said and bumped her shoulder against him.

"Heh. Right," Desmond smirked.

Lucy leaned her head back against the wall. "The others are gonna be so mad," she whispered. Desmond looked at her and she caught him. She smiled when she looked out of the corner of her eye at him.

"Good," he said. "We'll do this. We will," he nodded and looked at their new angels sitting in their chairs, passed out in various positions, their vessels cradled in their laps. "And from here its all down hill."

"What? Its going to go bad, but-

"No. Its going to get easier," Desmond said. "Any of them that survive this. They'll be real angels, Lucy. They're going to be able to teach others. We won't need the vessels and we can move on from the broken and bitter things locked up there. There are others out there, and there will be more. Probably everyone born these past few years are angels, and they'll need someone to teach them."

"Not you?" she asked.

"No," Desmond said rather forlornly. "I don't expect to make it out of Atlantis. I get to the Unnamed and for good or bad, my story's over."

"You don't believe that," Lucy said.

He looked at her, "I do," he said evenly. "The world is going to end, again, and I will be the bridge to the new beginning. But I won't get to see it. Not as I am. We're both from an old time, everyone here is. Whatever happens in the Unnamed isn't going to be for us."

"For the next generation?"

"And all the ones after," he said. "This one's a bust. Need to strive for a better tomorrow— Heh," he smiled a little at a sudden thought. "My brother told me that was the Miles motto. Through Blood we strive for a better tomorrow."

"Seems appropriately Assassiny," she teased him.

He chuckled, "Yeah. I guess so. This is the start of our better tomorrow," he nodded at the people.

"And its all down hill from here," Lucy said. Desmond started a little in surprise when she rested her head on his shoulder. He didn't say anything about it and just sat with her there as their people learned more about themselves than just about any other human ever had.


	60. Little Shrikethrush

Desmond gave them a week and a half. The young psychics came to the room Lucy had chosen and trained with their angels in their vessels. Lucy forbid anyone from speaking of it.

People had complained of course. "I can't even tell my husband where I go every day?" someone had asked.

"No," Lucy said. "It's a secret until the time comes."

"What if someone does it anyway?" John had asked.

"I will know," Desmond said, standing behind and to the slight side of Lucy. "Disobedience will not be tolerated-

"Quiet you," Lucy snapped. Everyone seemed wary now. They still didn't know who or _what_ Desmond was. Still didn't. The way Desmond wanted it. The current theory was he was like the angels in the vessels and no one told them otherwise. Lucy preferred to ignore him until he said something mean or rude and then berated him, or told him to shut up. Desmond was mean about eighty percent of the time, so he was constantly being told off. It made him disliked, and Lucy worshiped. All according to plan. "If people knew you had abilities, abilities till now we've all thought only the proeathans had, they'd turn on you. You'd be like the ones who have killed the entire world. When I tell you not to tell anyone I do so because I want to protect you. Now please, do not tell _anyone_."

They hadn't.

When they weren't here Lucy encouraged them to practice on their own someplace safe. Desmond could tell the people who had by how stressed out they were today. Today Lucy said was the day they shared their abilities with each other.

And some important people.

Desmond's ancestors were here with them. As was Cain, Jake, Clay and the heads of the Assassins. Od and his seconds were also here with several masters of Ilythian fighting. Desmond had briefed everyone here, except the new human psychics, on the situation and the game he was playing. Cain had applauded and Altair and Ezio had been disapproving but understanding. The Ilythians hadn't understood why but had let it pass thinking it was a human thing. Andrew had seemed genuinely concerned, which annoyed Desmond to no end.

Lucy's Angels were all brimming with dread and anticipation and nerves. Desmond was standing behind her, normal looking but drab in her brilliance. He was so fucking proud of her for coming into her own during this. She was significantly more confident today than she'd been nearly the entire time training these people. She didn't need a pep talk anymore before the start of each session to give her courage. She could do this.

Once the last person had arrived Demeter closed the door. "Everyone," Lucy said, addressing the new Angels. "Today is the day we show the fruits of your efforts. The mission I have planned is drawing closer. Today we're showing everyone what we're capable of. That this mission, which I know some of you think is suicidal, is possible. Because we have _you_ and our enemy is expecting you about as much as they expected me. Which is not at all," she offered them a reassuring smile.

"Now I know we can do these things. I believe. These people," she motioned to everyone watching, "they don't. They think it's crazy. A human with powers. Who wants to prove them wrong?"

They were scared, and hesitated. Only for a second. "Me," John said. Desmond knew he'd picked right with John. He stepped into the empty area between the watchers and the psychics.

"What are you, John?" Lucy asked.

His grin was devilish. "Marr said I was a pyromancer, among other things."

"Show us," Lucy said.

John didn't even hesitate. Desmond smiled. Wiley old man. John's eyes turned black and he held his hand under but not out. There was a spark as he snapped his fingers and a flame six inches tall burst into existence in front of his face from his fingers.

"The hell?" Ezio asked and when Desmond looked the Italian looked like his eyes were about to fall out of his head. Most of the humans wore similar expressions, or their jaws were on the floor. Only the Ilythians didn't seem surprised. Od's eyes were narrowed and Desmond sensed a conversation when this was all over.

"Like I told you," Lucy said. "A human psychic. Is that all John?" she asked.

"What you want something more impressive?"

"What else can you do?"

John released the flame but his eyes remained expanded. Desmond wondered what it was like to see when you used pyromancy. Like the _sikaz_, using the e'dn affected the way you saw the world. "Well I promised Demeter I wouldn't shoot any fire balls, but I can do that. And this," he got into a basic stance Desmond recognized as the first form of the Assassin martial arts. He was like that for a second before punching. John laughed when everyone jumped back when flame shot out of his fist in a stream. It dissipated quickly.

"Wow," Jake said. "That was _fucking amazing!_"

"Thank you John," Lucy said. "Who's next?"

"I will," Mary Junge, the black woman with the shaved head, said. She and John changed places.

"And what can you do, Mary?" Lucy asked.

"I'm a telekinetic," Mary said with a smile like it was the best thing she'd ever done.

"Impossible," one of the Ilythian masters hissed in English.

"_Silence_," Desmond bit at the Ilythian. "Or I will take your tongue and feed it to you."

The Ilythian was taken aback by the hostility and said nothing. Od turned his narrowed eyes at Desmond in dislike. "Show us, Mary," Lucy encouraged.

"Uhm, well," she said awkwardly and then pulled out a necklace of glass beads. "Serrha said to practice like this. I don't know how much I can lift though," she said and cut the string the beads were on. They scattered and rolled across the floor before they all came to a dead stop three feet around her. One second they were rolling anywhere they wanted the next they were static. Then they were lifted into the air and one by one she threaded them onto the string, using only her mind. Desmond hid his smile. Wonderful, just wonderful.

"Spectacular, Mary, just spectacular," Lucy said and Mary flushed and shyly looked away, stepping away back into the group. Everyone was just in silent awe at what they were witnessing.

"Me next," Anthony McCollack said. Lucy nodded for him to tell them what he could do. "I'm an illusionist," he said proudly. He closed his eyes and didn't open them as the room got darker and clouds formed in the ceiling above. Lightning flickered in the perfect clouds, but there was no thunder.

"Amazing," Shaun said as a false rain started to fall.

"Enough!" Od cried. Anthony lost his concentration with a jolt and the illusion snapped away like smoke being blown by a stiff breeze. "This is a mockery," he pointed at Lucy. "You think us fools?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Lucy said calmly. "Fools who denied I was anything, that _we_ were anything. You've known all along we could do this and you hid it from us," she seethed. Desmond stood behind her, looking at Od with a smirk. Don't forget I'm here, it reminded Od. Don't forget the thing you fear is supporting this.

Od bristled, his face working. Inti touched his arm and Od glared at him but the thin man didn't retreat. "And the last time you wielded such a power you nearly destroyed yourselves. Destroyed the entire world," Od said. "Your kind is too reckless for such power."

"Well maybe if you'd have accepted what we could do instead of turning us into cattle we could have handled it," Lucy said right back. "Your people are to blame for this, Od," she said.

"My people did nothing-

"Exactly," Desmond said. This was getting too heated and with actual angels in the room they were feeding off the violent energy that was pouring out of Lucy like a faucet. This would turn into a fight if he didn't step in. "You did nothing," he stepped around Lucy, for the first time since they'd started this, getting in front of her. "But we aren't here to point fingers, at who is wrong, and who is right. That happened thirty _thousand_ years ago. The only enemy we should be worried about isn't in this room. It is the Adjatevs, who started this misery.

"Now calm yourself, _Ando_, this pettiness is beneath you," Desmond said with all the cockiness of someone used to getting his way. He could see the fury of the disrespect in Od's eyes but the proeathan did nothing. Desmond checked him in the future sight of the Ilythians and Od was unmoving. Good. "And you, Angel," he threw back at Lucy. "Don't tarnish that pretty face of yours."

"Shut up," she said, unamused.

"I have seen enough," Od growled. "If I was not so invested now I would reconsider this venture after such a show of disrespect from your abo-" the word caught in his throat.

"Careful there _keen_," Desmond said with a mean grin, "Or you'll become a _lir_."

Od fumed and stormed out of the room. The rest of the Ilythians followed. Desmond let them go. "He'll come around," Lucy said to the concerned Angels.

"How?" someone asked. They all knew the plan needed proeathan support or they'd all be dead at the atoll.

"I'll work on him," Desmond said and that did nothing to settle their nerves. "Continue the demonstration," he said and stepped back again.

Lucy had the rest of the Angels present themselves. Then it was over. She dismissed them and many were grateful to leave.

Altair walked over to Desmond and grabbed his shoulder, "That was amazing," he said, a bit shell shocked by the whole thing. Everyone was.

Desmond pulled his hood down with a smile, a nice smile. "I know right?"

"Can you do that?" Hawk asked.

"Yes," Desmond said. "And so can Lucy."

"Other question. Can _we _do that?" Ezio asked.

Desmond hesitated, "I don't know," he admitted. "What gives someone Eagle Vision isn't what makes someone an angel. You have a higher concentration of proeathan in your blood than others. I'm unsure if it prevents it."

"Don't you do too?" Jake asked.

"Yeah but I'm a weirdo. It's different for me," Desmond said.

"I have to say, kid," Cain said, "You came up with a plan, figured it out, and followed through with it to success. Big step in right direction. I'm proud of you."

Desmond didn't miss the way Cain glanced at Altair. Maybe Cain was teaching Altair to be a better human being again, "So am I," Altair said. "Of both of you," he added, looking at Lucy. If that wasn't a boost of instant confidence nothing was. As shitty as Altair could be sometimes hearing someone who was nearly a thousand years old you'd been trying to get the respect of say they were proud of you was a real uplifting feeling. Especially after how rocky Lucy and Altair's initial relationship, one of distrust and dislike, had been this was a _huge_ step in a better direction even if Altair did respect Lucy some for what she had done at the plantations.

"Thank you," Lucy said.

"So what next?" Shaun asked.

"Next I go and talk to Od and pull that big head of his out of his tiny ass." That made everyone laugh. "And now that we know they can really do it, now its time for the next step. Weaponizing their abilities."

"Unfortunate," Lucy said. "But given the circumstances its necessary."

"How will you even do that for some of them?" Shaun asked again. "Like so what, they can make illusions. That isn't real."

"You'd be surprised what can happen," Desmond said simply. "We fought against them before with our abilities. We can do it again. Not to mention every proeathan we're going to be fighting at the atoll and at Atlantis have faced real, fully empowered, angels. They know angels as the destroyers of the world, their civilization. Even if we can't fully weaponize their abilities if we can make them _look_ like pre Toba event abilities it'll be enough to shake the proeathans."

"As it was Od reacted badly to something as innocuous as rain," Lucy added. "Meaning they've seen Angels do _much_ more than that. It scares them, that the species they see as so _less_ is as great as them."

"Scared things fight back," Altair said.

"Yeah," Desmond said, "They also run."

"So you have twenty angels," Shaun said, "and you think you'll really get Od to come around? Cause without them what do we have?"

"Well, we still have me, and that's enough to probably freak out the entire atoll if I just showed up," Desmond smirked. "But he'll come around. He's just proeathan, he can't help he's kinda speciesist. He grew up being told humans were inferior to his kind in every single possible way."

"Still-

"I should remind everyone," Cain interjected rather gently, "a proeathan like Od is probably four hundred years old. He's got unlearning to do. It doesn't come easy."

"Yeah, exactly," Desmond said. "So I'll talk to him. And either he does what I say willingly, or I force his hand on the matter. Regardless, it will get done. The Ilythians will be necessary to move against the other proeathans at the atoll, and get everything into position for Atlantis."

"And what about Atlantis?" Desmond blinked a wince when Andrew asked him that. "What do you plan to do for that? How do you even know the construct at the atoll will be helpful?"

Desmond grit his teeth. They weren't unfair questions. It was just his dad asking them that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Well it raised Atlantis, so I think its a safe bet it'll be useful," Desmond said and only through sheer force of will he wasn't sarcastic.

"And what do you think you'll accomplish at that atoll exactly?"

"Well if Toba was a huge EMP, maybe I can do something like that without blowing a crater into the Earth like Eve did. Shut down all the enemy numia and robots and machines. That'd be a good start right?"

"Can it do that?"

"We don't know it can't," Desmond said, feeling himself getting heated. "Toba, the atoll construct, and the Unnamed. They're all connected, if nothing else maybe I can use it to _get_ to the Unnamed without having to leave a mountain of bodies behind me. What a thought right?"

"If the proeathans built all this stuff, why haven't they used it before now? Why aren't they using the atoll construct right now?" Shaun asked and that made Desmond's hackles lower a bit. "You said you just walked right in. Well, what's stopping them from doing that now?"

Desmond had no good answer. He didn't know. He also didn't pretend to understand the twisted religion that controlled the proeathan's entire society and way of life with an iron fist either. "Because we did not build them," Morpheus said and fazed into visibility. He was like a living shadow, tall and ominous.

"Wait… what?" Jake asked. "What do you mean you didn't build them? They're proeathan constructs."

"No," Morpheus said. "We found the Unnamed. It calls to us, and so we came. We built Atlantis, which called to you, and so you came. But these constructs, they do not _call_ to either of us, and they are hidden from us. We never found them in our time. We also were not looking for them."

"You lead Desmond right to one," Hawk said. "You knew where the Pacific construct was."

"We spent the better part of four years scouring your internet and satellite images and data for it. It was no easy feat when our systems are not completely compatible with yours. Only through carful data collection and review did we find the atoll construct. It was like T'bkan and we knew like it it could be of use. What use, we didn't know."

"So… what are they?" Ezio asked, scratching his neck a little.

Morpheus was quiet a moment. "We don't know," he said. "No data was gathered about T'bkan before it exploded and we've had no real contact with the Pacific atoll. But if it is anything like the Unnamed then it is old. Very old."

"Like how old?" Hawk asked.

"_Millions_ of years old, if not billions. The material we made our bases of is nearly indestructible, but you know that it is possible to damage it, that it _breaks_, and will eventually crumble. The Unnamed is true indestructible material. Nothing we devised or developed in our long history could so much as scrape it. Thus we have no real way to date how old the Unnamed is but our scientists believe it to be nearly as old as the Earth."

There was a long silence, "How is that possible?" Hawk asked.

"We have no idea," Morpheus said.

"They could be wrong though, right?" Jake asked. "Like you just said you have no way to even date the material. Couldn't it be from your ancestors?"

"Perhaps," Hera said appearing next to Morpheus, her unflinching mask as creepy as Morpheus' dark demeanor. "It is said that when Pluto arrived on Atlantis the Unnamed was there, awaiting his arrival. Some less used pieces of scripture say that he forged it from solid luck. We liked to tell that to those who doubted our claims about it being a killer, but is unlikely that Pluto or his apostates made the Unnamed."

"But they _could_ have?"

"Perhaps. Though what techniques they used to create it were lost to us in time," Hera said.

"And no idea what it is?" Hawk asked, "What its made of?"

"Something harder than diamond that can withstand a diamond blade and the super hot cutting tip of a diamond cutting laser," Morpheus said.

"So then where did it come from? And these constructs?" Andrew demanded.

"We don't know. Perhaps our ancient people did build them."

"Maybe it was aliens," Jake said.

"Shut up, Jake," Desmond said.

"What? I'm just saying is all."

"If aliens existed why the hell would they come to a planet in the backwaters of the galaxy?" Desmond asked.

"It was just a thought. Jesus," he pouted, folding his arms over his chest.

"Well its just like our ancients," Lucy said thoughtfully. "For a long time how humans made great structures like the pyramids or stonehenge or other huge structures was thought to be aliens. Its only been in our modern time we figured out how stupid we were and all of it was possible through engineering. Proeathans probably have the same sort of ancestry," she shrugged. "The technique was lost and one day you'll find it again."

"Perhaps," Morpheus said.

"Regardless of what the construct is," Desmond said, "I need to get to it. The harvest is almost over, the Adjectevs will have Atlantis on lock down by now. We won't be getting in without fighting our way through and leaving an ocean of bodies behind us. If there is _anything_ I can do at the construct that could help us, I have to do it. Earth has had quite enough genocide to last us a long time. I think we can all agree on that if nothing else." There was no objections to that.

"In the mean time me and Lucy will keep working with the angels. Getting them ready. I'll go talk to Od. The rest of you need to prepare for our assault on Atlantis. Prepare our army," he didn't scoff at it but it was hard. Army. A few thousand people. Against the might of the proeathans which numbered in the tens of thousands of soldiers, probably even more. It was laughable. The Ilythians would help but even their force of thirty thousand wasn't even all military, just proeathans who disagreed with the Adjectevs. The Adjectevs probably had ten times as many soldiers.

They were all going to die. They were going to stop this stupid species feud but they were all going to die on that rock in the middle of the Atlantic.

"We will," Altair said.

"Good," then he sighed. "Now, I have to go talk to Od before he's left to stew on this and becomes unreasonable."

"What will you do if he refuses?" Altair asked.

"I'll think of something," Desmond said. "I always did." With that he pulled his hood back up and left the room to go find _Ando_ Od.


	61. The Jeweled Crowned Pigeon

For the Ilythians, a people who prided themselves for their peaceful, pacifistic, nature, all they did was fight. It made up every point of their lives from their marriage ceremonies where the bride and groom would play fight with hollow sabers that made music as they danced, to friendships where being a regular sparring partner meant the two were best of friends. Even their worship was coded n their warrior nature. While they followed the religion of the Sixteen gods just like all other proeathans each race had their own way they went about it and decided their best way to show their dedication to the gods the faceless had given them.

For the Ilythians there were two times of worship. Once, that was private between individuals and their patron star, which they partook in every morning before breakfast, then again before dinner which involved the community. According to Ilythians who'd taught Desmond to fight in the _etji_a_ð_ style before they had retreated to their cryo-chambers there had been great cathedrals built for the act of the great gatherings at dusk that filled with Ilythians and they moved through forms as a group. It was a meditation and a time for everyone in the community to come together as one.

Desmond found Od at dusk worship. It had just ended but people were still standing around, talking, teasing, making friends. It was a time everyone came together. The group here wasn't all the Ilythians, but there were a few hundred in the garden they'd found that was lined with a nearly teal colored grass. Od was alone, standing straight and proud, head tipped upward, hands cupped in front of him. Everyone was giving their _Ando_ space, no one bothering him or needing his time now.

Od opened one eye when Desmond came and stood next to him, looking right at him. "_Can I help you stadalla?" _he asked, in English.

"_What was that earlier? With the angels?"_

_"I do not wish to discuss it."_

_"I'm sure. You still acted ridiculous. We need you for this attack."_

Od opened both his eyes and looked at Desmond, "_What do you know of what happened at Toba?"_

_"Enough_," Desmond shrugged.

"_I saw it_," Od said and Desmond's eyes widened. "_Eve the Destroyer brought her army, and the Hedren brought theirs and we were going to end this war. Instead she went into that construct and slaughtered us."_

_"You knew Eve?"_

_"I was younger than, just a foot soldier, before I joined the Hedren I was part of the United Armies. My family did not agree. In the end it didn't matter. My commander was killed in that event, so were my parents, my elder sister. You have not _seen_ what angels can do and you frivolously hand out that power like its a toy. Proeathans spend decades learning to master themselves. You have shared your culture with us as much as we have with you. There is a _reason_ angels fall in your religion. They are out of control, erupting like a super nova and destroying everything in its range."_

_"That won't happen_," Desmond said. "_Its different now. I'm not going to the construct to blow it up."_

_"Neither did Eve."_

_"I'm not Eve. She was not a stadalla. I am."_ Desmond met Od's hard stare. "_I need you."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Then you will send them to be slaughtered at the hands of the Adjatevs, but not go with my angels?"_

_"Better to be killed by enemies, than by friends,"_ Od said in a way Desmond knew it was a proverb.

"_Why did you react so strongly to Anthony's illusion of the storm?"_ Desmond asked. He knew the Ilythians didn't like the rain. Whenever it had rained on the way to Chad they'd retreated into their numia and wouldn't come out until it was over. After the rain there was a census taken in rapid order, to account for everyone. Desmond didn't understand it, still didn't really.

Od looked around and beckoned Desmond closer. _"Saturn would bring rain before she attacked when she was alive. First illusions, then stories say she learned to affect the pressure of the world around her and cause storms to roll in at her will. She is the luck of the eclipse for a reason, and in her wake there is shadows and darkness stretches across the land. Our pantheon is full of ill deeded gods but Saturn is the darkest, and the only star no proeathan is born under. Even I, born under Juno is preferable to the luck of being born under Saturn."_

_"So, what? You can't be born under Saturn?"_

_"You can be,"_ Od said slowly. "_But her day is one out of the year. Many women would force delay or force labor their children to be born the day before or after to avoid it. Saturn is rain, and rain is destruction. Eve brought rain too. A false rain, but a rain all the same. The day she went into T'bkan she showed the United Armies a great thunder storm, with thunder and lightning and wet stained ground. Then she entered the construct. Then it _exploded."

Desmond breathed slowly, digesting all that. That was a pretty good reason for proeathans to be _petrified_ of rain storms. No doubt it had been incorporated into their religion just like anything else. "_I see_," he said. "_We aren't about to make rainstorms though. I have other things for our illusionists to do."_

_"The answer is still no, Desmond."_

_"You don't trust me?" _Od's silence was enough. "_That hurts me."_

_"I do what is best for my people," _Od said.

"But can we make our own decisions?" they both looked and saw Baldur standing there. Thor was behind her shoulder, looking horrified they were confronting their commander and _stadalla_.

"Hmm?" Od asked.

"I wish to fight by the _stadalla_'s side," she said in Ilythian. "I wish to go with him to the atoll. I know there are others who do as well."

"No," Od said. "We are not going to the atoll."

"We can make our own decisions, sir. I volunteered for the mission before, I volunteer now. I know others would as well."

"There were like six hundred Ilythian volunteers," Desmond said as a side note.

"And more besides them," Baldur said quickly. "That was just the ones who had heard about it before the _Ando_ closed submissions. We want to help. We are tired of being listless and without a heading. Our people hunger for an end to this conflict."

"You do not what you speak of girl. You will be fighting with angels at your side. Untrained, untested. They will act in ways you cannot even understand."

"Then I will learn," Baldur said bravely. "I am going to be sharing the Earth with them, I will learn."

"You, nor anyone else is going to the atoll," Od said, raising his voice just slightly in anger at being so disobeyed.

"Ando, please, reconsider," Baldur said. Desmond looked around them, a huge mass of Ilythians were watching them all now, their intelligent yellow eyes keyed onto the discussion. Many conversations had died and they were listening to the _Ando_ talk to Baldur with the _stadalla_. Sounded like a bad sitcom.

"No," Od said. "This has gone on long enough. We came here to help them take Atlantis. Working with angels is not something I will condone ever. Not after what they did."

"Even if we want to help them?" Baldur pleaded.

"We are preparing for the siege on Atlantis. Now is not the time to split our forces," he said giving both Baldur and Desmond a look.

"I disagree," Baldur said.

"That is irrelevant. I am _Ando_, you are a soldier. Fall in line."

Baldur stared Od down. "No," she said. "I don't agree and I will not sit and watch these people be slaughtered by our enemy."

"You would disobey me?" Od growled and all movement and talking had stopped now. Everyone was staring at the two now.

"I would challenge you," Baldur said. "You are unfit for the role of leader of Hedren with your conservative ideals."

Od was taken aback by that. Desmond looked at Od in confusion. Could she _do _that? Desmond knew that the leadership of the Ilythians was determined through fighting, much like everything else about their culture. Those below could directly challenge those above them if they disagreed with them enough. A challenge was issued and the two fought until one was either dead or surrendered. The loser was stripped of their rank and they had to reclimb the hierarchy ladder from the bottom.

"_You_ issue challenge to _me_?" Od clarified, scandalized.

"I do," Baldur said boldly. "The future is for those like me. It's time for the old to allow the next in line to progress before the cryo sickness kills us all."

Of appraised Baldur and then looked at Desmond. _"You did this?"_ he asked in English.

_"I'm just as surprised as you, honest,"_ Desmond said.

_"No one asked me. I challenge you of my own free will,"_ Baldur said.

"I accept," Od said, switching back to his native tongue. Desmond got the feeling he couldn't have declined. To do so would have been a sign of weakness. "As you are the challenger you may pick where we will fight."

"Here. Now." Desmond had to hand it to her, Baldur was absolutely fearless.

Od's mouth went a bit thin. "Very well. Prepare yourself, we will challenge in a single _lethogun_," he said. A lethogun was an Ilythian word for a period of time that was about eight minutes of human time and was considered the appropriate amount of time one should take to warm up before a fight.

"Fine," Baldur said and walked off to warm up and stretch. Thor followed behind her, wide eyed in absolute terror and awe.

"You're actually doing this. I'm surprised," Desmond said.

"I have no choice," Od said quietly. "If I refused I am not fit to lead." He looked at Desmond and Desmond was surprised when he grabbed Desmond's shoulder, making Desmond look at her. _"I will not surrender,_" he told Desmond, yellow eyes intent and fierce. _"If I lose, I am trusting you to make sure she does not get twisted by the rest of us."_

"What? Od, you can't be serious," Desmond said, so startled he didn't even switch back to English.

_"I am very serious, stadalla. I will win this fight, or she will kill me. The young ones think it is easy to lead. They don't understand the sacrifices, the politics of this entire thing. Baldur is a nice girl, idealistic, that's why she joined the Hedren. Idealism will only get you so far though. If I _do_ lose, protect her from those among us who would make her into something else."_

_"Od, your people need you, you can't just _die_. Can't you beat her?_" Desmond asked.

_"No Ilythian underestimates their enemy. To do so is to invite death to your heart. But I am not so foolish as to think that the cryo sickness has not already started to affect my old bones and will make me weaker than I once was. I do not intend to just _die_ but I must entertain the possibility and it's so sudden I have no time to make plans to make sure Inti and Zorya can protect her should I fall. They know what must be done but it will be reactive. I ask you to be proactive. If Baldur wins she will be swarmed by people and they will want to know things, they will demand things of her immediately, and she is young. She will make rash decisions quickly to satisfy the crowd. Do not allow her to."_

_"I don't want you to die, Od,_" Desmond said.

"Than pray. Now I must prepare. The _lethogun_ is almost over."

"Win," Desmond said.

"That is the hope every challenge we face, stadalla, that we win. I am proud to have sparred with you, my friend," Od said and squeezed Desmond's hand. Desmond shifted the grip to grab his arm firmly.

"We will spar again," Desmond promised, squeezing Od's arm.

"I hope so," Od said in nearly a whisper. Desmond frowned up at him. Od had worry in his eyes. He was confidant that Baldur would not win, but he was wary. He feared he would fall here, the cryo sickness making him weaker than he expected, weaker than Baldur. Then Od's eyes cleared and there was no fear. He left Desmond to take the rest of the _lethogun_ to prepare himself.


	62. The Sharp Edge of the Cliff

It was sort of surreal. Od and Baldur were going to fight for leadership of the Hedren people. For one of them it would be a fight to the death. Desmond was sort of terrified. He liked Baldur fine but Od was right. She was young. She didn't know how to lead. Od understood the weight of leadership. And at the moment he could die. Like he could really die. Desmond had seen Baldur fight with her companions and during the volunteer stage of the atoll mission. She was good. As good as Od? Desmond prayed not.

The _lethogun_ finished and the two stood across from each other. Demeter had created a ring of light in the floor that would be their arena. They both had removed their shirts, shoes, and everything except for their pants. Desmond cocked his head at the two of them. He'd expected Baldur to wear a compression shirt or something for her breasts but she didn't have any. Shirtless the two looked very the same, angular faces and sharp features with straight noses and piercing yellow eyes. What had been Desmond's thought when he's first met Baldur, that that had been the name of a male Norse god? No one seemed surprised by Baldur's lack of breasts either, except Desmond. Not that it was a big deal he'd just had other expectations, especially since Zorya _did_ have breasts. Well, lesson learned.

Pluto appeared on the other side of the ring as Desmond. He was dressed similarly to the two combatants as in, half dressed. His blonde hair was wild now though and he looked ready for a fight himself. "As the still highest ranked official in the ark I will oversee this challenge. I am well aware of the rules of Ilythian promotions. Baldur Sabbr has issued challenge to _Ando _Od Sighted of the Hedren people via a trial by combat for command of the Hedren people. Victory will be determined by a single round of battle until one combatant begs for mercy to be stripped of their rank henceforth without an option of repeal _or_ one combatant is killed. There will be no time limit, nor may one combatant request reprieve in the middle. Weapons are forbidden. Use of the sixth sense is permitted so long as the use of the ancient art of _hodori_ or any abilities like it are not. Breaking of such rules will trigger an automatic loss and the blinding of one eye as punishment. Do the combatants have any questions as to the rules of this trial?" Od and Baldur both shook their heads. "Prepare. When you hear the tone the challenge will begin."

Od and Baldur readied themselves, each taking a different stance. Desmond knew there were four different starting stances of a challenge, they'd been shown to him when he's learned etjiað, one aggressive and defensive for both men and women that benefitted their usual body types. Od took a defensive masculine stance developed for higher command warriors who has to defend their titles but did not have to prove themselves and he looked like a blocking boxer. Baldur took an aggressive masculine stance, her hands up in front of her like a pair of knives. Both their eyes turned blue.

"On the tone," Pluto announced and the assembled crowd was silent, watching with anticipation as the young upstart challenged their leader. Ten seconds passed and the lights flared up once, dimmed, flared again and then on the third the brightening lights were accompanied by a bell tone.

Baldur flew and crashed into Od feet first. Od deflected and tried to send Baldur to the floor. It didn't work and she just absorbed the fall and was back up with a great swinging kick aimed at Od's temple. Od blocked but didn't bother to attack. Baldur jumped towards Od, kicking him repeatedly with crisp movements that made her hop a little forward each time so she kept in range. Why wasn't Od attacking? Baldur had victory in her eyes and she wouldn't stop. Desmond hoped she would but wishes were useless here.

Then, nearly too fast to see, Od grabbed Baldur's ankle and pushed her entire leg up, lifting her up off her planted foot. No one missed the surprise on Baldur's face as she went ass over elbow and sprawled onto the ground. Od jumped after her, a stomp aimed at her neck but she rolled away, hopping to her feet and _right_ into a spectacular roundhouse kick right to the face she hadn't seen coming.

Baldur was thrown to the ground with a thump and Desmond let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Od could beat Baldur. Everything would be okay, right? Seemed like it. Od just had to get Baldur to surrender and they could stop this stupid fighting.

Od stepped over to her lightly, wary. He jumped back a second before she swung around and hoisted her entire body up on her arms to kick upwards and diagonally. Her heel would have been exactly where Od's sternum would have been had he not moved.

This entire thing was going to give Desmond some seriously high blood pressure. He hated having to watch this but there wasn't anything he could do. This was a sacred rite and who knew what would happen if he stepped in if things went too far.

The next bought was the two of them jumping around one another. They weren't even reacting to each other so much as they were reacting to what they could see in the two or so seconds in the future. A punch would be half thrown or someone would dodge a shadow kick and they'd pull back. The trick when two fighters both had combat future sight was you had to be unpredictable. If you weren't the future was set and you'd move in ways the enemy knew. As such etjiað could appear very erratic and even chaotic. But for a people who gained reputation by fighting and who could also directly see their opponent's next move it paid to more in chaotic and erratic ways so they couldn't foresee what you'd do.

The cat and mouse continued for a bit before Baldur got fed up with it and just rushed Od again. Bad idea. Od was ready for her and when Baldur struck Od was there to move with her and in accepting the blow he could redirect it and her and basically threw her across the ring onto the floor. The crowd moved back from the downed fighter, touching her could influence the fight and she lay on the floor, breathing hard.

Od took a running jump and Baldur looked up to see Od about to slam into her chest. She twisted away but he managed to catch her leg and they all heard the definitive noise of a knee snapping. Baldur screamed and hunched over. "Just concede," Od said above her, sounding like he'd hated to have done that, "and we will tend to your injury."

She steadied her breathing before looking up at him. And to not just Desmond's surprise but also everyone else's Baldur swung her _broken leg_ with tremendous force. Od's legs fell out from under him and he crashed to the floor next to her. Baldur was a mask of agony and before Od could stop her Baldur had crawled over to him and pinned him. Once you got an Ilythian on the ground it was game over for them. Taking away their ability to get airborne crippled them. Etjiað had few holds and just expected its people to not _get_ into holds breaking out of them was also not well taught.

Baldur punched Od right in the face. He grabbed at her to get her off but she punched him again, and again. Od tried to shield his face but she just started punching the rest of him. His sides, his arms, his shoulders and chest, pummeling him into the ground while a shocked and probably horrified group of Ilythians watched. At least Desmond thought they were horrified. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Baldur and Od to even check.

Before too long Baldur had turned Od into a bleeding heap. His face was heavily swollen and he was bleeding from all over his face. His entire body was bruised and blue from Baldur's fists. She'd broken at least one rib and probably cracked a few more.

Finally, when he no longer fought back Baldur relented and sat back, breathing hard, sweat standing out on her dark skin. "Concede," she said thickly, like she was about to break down into tears, "and we will tend to your injuries." She was begging him here.

Desmond looked at Od, beaten as he was, and even from here he knew the proud Ilythian would do no such thing. "No," Od said and reached up through the pain and grabbed at her face. It was painful to watch as she pushed his hand down but he reached up again. Desmond saw Od say something again but what it was was too quiet to hear. Judging by Baldur's suddenly stricken face Desmond could guess what Od had said. Kill him. He would not surrender, if she wanted to be leader to much she would only do so once he was dead. There were only two ways a challenge could end. Forfeit, or death. Even if someone fell unconscious they would _wait_ until they'd regained conciseness, ask if they wished to continue, and if so the fight would continue.

Finally Desmond looked around at the crowd. They were all silent, monolithic, but they were not horrified. If anything they looked _expectant_. They expected Baldur to claim her victory with Od's life. It wasn't even that they might have liked or disliked Od. This was their way, their culture, and they lived and died by their ability to stand up and fight. If their old leader could no longer fight he was better dead, but if the new one didn't have the conviction to kill then they were hardly better. Peace, through any means. Even death, even violence, so far as the many did not suffer. One death, to save thousands. That was the way of the Ilythians.

No friendly or understanding faces met Baldur's when she looked around. She saw the looks they had. Kill him. She looked back down at Od who was having a hard time breathing now. Anyone could see this wasn't a kind death. It would be brutal, terrible and traumatic for both parties. Baldur would never forget her first victory.

Baldur reached down and wrapped her hands around Od's throat. Maybe she thought it was a kinder death. Od's hands came up to fight her off but he was too weak now. Desmond watched his face start to darken as blood became trapped in his head. Od was going to die.

Od was going to _die_.

Desmond didn't realize what he was doing till we was doing it. Lilith had taught him how to channel the fine ability of deflecting photons through telekinesis. He was a telekinetic, but had never really worked that muscle before.

His eyes went black and like a pair of hands had grabbed Baldur's shoulders he yanked her off Od. "Enough!" he called and strode into the ring. The Ilythians stood there in shock and awe. Desmond hadn't even touched Baldur, hadn't even been near her. On the ground Od wheezed as he could breathe again and Baldur was clutching her leg, sobbing silently, her knee bent the wrong way.

"Desmond," Pluto said slowly in English, "what are you doing?"

"This is enough," Desmond said and addressed the crowd, his eyes black as the deepest parts of the void of space.

"You dare interfere, human?" one Ilythian asked from the crowd.

"Human?" Desmond asked, scandalized. "You speak of me like I am _human_? I am the _stadalla_, I am the Seventeenth, I am the avatar of the Unnamed; I am a fucking _god_. So yes I dare to interfere. Who will stop me?" he challenged. No one did. His heart was pounding. Well, better late than never to accept your fate he supposed.

"There must be a winner," Pluto said.

"Alright, how about I win?" Desmond asked.

"That isn't-

"Do you surrender?" he asked Od, looking down at him.

Od blinked at him, not understanding what he was doing, or maybe he did. At least one of them knew what Desmond was doing because right now he was just kinda winging it. "To you, _stadalla_," he whispered.

"And you, girl, do you surrender?" he asked Baldur who was still holding her leg.

She took a shaky breath. "I—" she paused, unsure.

"Unlike you I don't have a problem killing someone," Desmond said and everyone took a step back, pressing up against the Ilythian behind them when Desmond held his fist out to her and the smart material formed into a wicked looking knife. "You're a nice girl, Baldur, but I will kill you if you don't surrender. I don't think you want to die today."

"I surrender," she choked out, half sobbing.

"Then I win," Desmond proclaimed. "I'm not an Ilythian, but I am your _stadalla_, and your _Ando_ and his challenger have submitted before me."

"I believe that makes _you_ _Ando_ now," Pluto said.

"Sweet," Desmond said, hoping against hope his insecurity wasn't coming through. He was doing this by the skin of his teeth and making shit up as he went along. "Now what?"

"Upon winning a challenge fight it is customary to select your _sengars_," Pluto said. "Your second in commands."

"Alright," Desmond said. "I select Od Sighted and Baldur Sabbr as my _sengars_, effective immediately."

"Is this real?" someone asked.

"I hope so, cause I'd really hate to actually lose a guy like Od over something stupid like this," Desmond said. "By the laws of your challenge trials I have claimed victory. I don't expect celebrating, I know you aren't happy. Tough shit really. I'm not happy either. Not happy it had to come to this I had to step in like this. I'd hoped you would have come around on your own like Hedren had done before.

"Nothing will change," he continued. "I'm not asking for your trust, or love or respect. I just demand you obey. Od and Baldur will be your leaders in every way and other than Od being _Sengar_ now he will be as before. Is that understood?" No one spoke out. "Great. Demeter, I want you to broadcast this entire event to the rest of the Hedren. Now someone for the love of god come help Od and Baldur to the medical bay so they can get healed up." With that he put away his knife and stepped away from Od.

Ilythians came forward and picked Od up carefully. The former _Ando_ grit his teeth against the pain as they carried him away. Thor and a few others came to help Baldur. Baldur refused to be carried and managed to limp out of the room.

Desmond didn't stay. He left before the Ilythians could turn to him or run in terror that he'd made himself the highest ranked officer of the Hedren. What a backwards turn of events.

"Pluto," he said, switching back to English, as he walked, yanking his hood up to hide himself.

"Yes?"

"How bad I fuck up just then?" Desmond asked, ducking into a lift. Pluto didn't answer right away. "Pretty bad then, _great_," he said sarcastically.

"It could have been worse," Pluto said. "I did not expect you to claim your godhood. Usually you hate when we bring it up."

"Yeah well I needed the Ilythians to accept me, I figure that'd do it."

"Oh yes," Pluto said.

"Desmond, Od and Baldur have made it to my medical bay. Shall I keep you updated on their recovery?"

"Yes. Please. How long will it take?"

"Baldur a few hours, Od will take a day or two."

"Great, fantastic. Contact Inti and Zorya, tell them to get to the medical bay twenty minutes ago."

"Of course," Demeter said.

"Well, you have your army now," Artemis said.

"Yeah… crap. Craaaap."

"What?" Pluto asked.

"I have to go tell everyone what I did. I'm going to get so many lumps!" he complained. He could just imagine Cain's disapproving stare and Altair's stern annoyance and Ezio's shocked disapproval. Wonderful. He couldn't wait.

* * *

><p>I honestly was gonna kill Od this chapter. Then I changed my mind cause Desmond gets in WAY more trouble like this lols.<p> 


	63. Broken Wing

"You did _what_?" Lucy asked when Desmond told her.

"I… might have become the leader of the Ilythians," he said awkwardly.

She and Jake stared at him. "Have you lost your fucking _mind_, bro?" Jake asked.

"No. Not this week at least. Look it was that or Od would die okay!? I couldn't just let him get killed like that," Desmond whined.

"So instead you just made yourself their leader," Lucy huffed.

"Well… yeah."

"Aren't you tired of being the boy wonder?" Jake asked.

"Trust me. I am," Desmond huffed. "I just… couldn't let him die. I need him."

"While it's admirable you saved his life Desmond, I don't think it was a very good idea," Cain said.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I agree with Cain," Altair said.

"Awww, look at that-

"Hey! Play nice Altair," Jake and Desmond snapped at nearly the same time when Altair punched Cain harder in the arm than 'playfully'.

"So… what now?" Ezio asked.

"Now I have the proeathans I need to back up my angel force to take the atoll," Desmond said. "It won't be a lot of them. I need most of them ready to fly to Atlantis, but enough so that we don't get overrun."

"Well you'll still get overrun," Cain said. "Unless you matched their numbers."

"Which I _could_ do," Desmond said. "There are only like three thousand proeathans there."

"And leave us out three thousand when taking Atlantis?" Ezio asked.

"What do you plan to _do_ at the atoll anyway?" Cain asked. "You don't even know what it can do."

"Neither do the proeathans. They just know that I went there and a _continent_ rose up from the bottom of the ocean. A continent that has been invisible for tens of thousands of years. They don't know what it can do and they're scared. I don't know what it can do, but I don't need to. I can make it do _something_. Even if its just a distraction so we can create a beach head on Atlantis and not just get slaughtered. Best case scenario I can distract the proeathans with it. Make them more worried about what I'm doing at the atoll than they're worried about us attacking Atlantis," Desmond said.

"Even if its nothing?" Jake asked.

"At this point its better than nothing. I do something or we're worm food. The proeathans will slaughter us when we try to land on Atlantis."

"He's got a point," Hawk admitted. "I've run some calculations based on some spy flights Od did for us before you showed up Desmond, and they have roughly three quarters of their soldiers located in Atlantis. The rest are across the globe. They are dug in _deep_ in Atlantis and we will be slaughtered without _something_ to help us. They scattered and freaked out pretty quickly when you caused that global energy fluctuation when you rose Atlantis. They scrambled numia and ships and practically _raced_ to the atoll to see if they could find you. I assume by then you were gone?"

"I was," Desmond nodded.

"Barely made it to the main land," Artemis put in.

"Yes thank you Artemis."

"We told you not to touch the counsel except where we told you."

"_Thank you_, Artemis," Desmond growled. Artemis just laughed her sweet teenage girl laugh but said no more. "So now the plan is weaponize the angels we have, and start training Ilythians with them so they know how to best protect them."

"And get them over the fact that they're angels," Lucy said with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeah, that too," Desmond said. "Its October eighth now. The end of the proeathan harvest is in twenty-three days, give or take."

"Can you do that in twenty-three days?" Altair asked.

"Well we better fucking hope so. Maybe I can even get it done in less."

"And what about if it takes longer?" Ezio asked the question they all had but didn't want to ask.

"Well. Growing season doesn't just _end_. Hopefully we'll have a few days grace before they start sending out blanket numia searches for me and Demeter," Desmond nodded a little. "That's the hope at least."

"And hope the angels can learn to use their abilities aggressively," Altair said.

"You got a lot riding on hope, Desmond," Jake said.

"Yeah, and?" he asked. "I'm like a hope generating machine at this point, cause if not me, than who?"

"Eh, good point," Cain shrugged.

"Exactly, I make those sometimes," Desmond said.

"And what do you want us to do while you work on your angels?" Ezio asked.

"Keep your men sharp. They're all going into hell at the end of October. And I do mean hell," he sighed a little. "Make sure they're as ready as you can make them, cause we're only going to get one shot at this. Now…" he sighed again. "I have to go see my _sengars_. God, that sounds so fucking weird," he whined.

"You did this to yourself," Altair said mildly.

"Don't remind me. We all on the same page?"

Everyone nodded. "What about the Assassins?" Clay, who'd been quietly listening the entire time, asked.

"What about them?"

"You going to tell them?"

Desmond squinted at Clay, knowing what he was getting at. "No," he said. Clay just shrugged but didn't push the subject. "Alright, if you need me, tell one of the AI, I'll come find you. Till then, meeting adjourned," he said. They nodded and Desmond left them all there and went to the med bay.

Six proeathans stood outside the med bay, looking mean and intimidating. No one was allowed in. "_Ando_," they said, bowing their heads in respect and stepping out of the way of the door so Desmond could go in. Well that was officially fucking surreal. Desmond just nodded as them and went in.

Baldur and Od were still in there. Od was in one of the healing pods that just looking at made Desmond's entire being want to break down into a panic attack. They looked a lot like the pods he'd been locked up in by the Adjatevs. Od's eyes were closed and he seemed at rest, a mask covered most of his face. Baldur was in a sitting position, her entire lower half inside a strange device that Desmond assumed was healing her leg. In front of her were Inti and Zorya, talking to her seriously in Ilythian and sitting in a chair off to the side was Thor. When the door opened they stopped talking and looked towards Desmond.

"Uh, hi," he said awkwardly as the door clicked shut behind him.

"That was foolish," Zorya said.

"Probably."

"Had you been anything less than the _stadalla_ and our people would have torn you to shreds for interfering with the sacred rite of promotion."

"Well thank goodness I am or Od would be dead," Desmond said.

"He would have wanted to be dead if he could not win," Zorya sniffed at him. "You have shamed him."

"Look," Desmond said, "tough shit. He's alive, and I need him, because he's good at his job. Now are you going to make my job easier or not? Cause those scary Ilythians out there know I'm _Ando_. Do you?"

She narrowed her cat eyes at him. "You may be _Ando_, but you know nothing of our ways, _stadalla_."

"Yeah. I know. That's why I need you two, and Baldur, and Od; alive and working with me and not against me. Otherwise I'm going to get the Hegren all killed. You don't want that do you?"

Zorya pursed her lips at him. "We are willing to listen, _stadalla_," Inti said in his laborious accent. "Zorya is just concerned."

"I can see that. So am I. I don't want to be _Ando_, but I am. Now then, Demeter, how are my _sengars_ coming along?" he asked, putting his hands behind his back. Baldur blushed a little when he said that, though it was hard to see against her dark skin.

"Od suffered significant damage to his internals. Bruises on his major organs and three broken ribs and a slightly fractured skull."

"I'm sorry," Baldur said. "I didn't… mean to."

"I know," Desmond assured her. "And her?"

"Her knee shattered and broke her fibula and tibia when she made the stupid decision to use it to kick Od. It will take the rest of the day to mend. Od will be up and about tomorrow night," Demeter finished her report.

Desmond stood there a moment. "Amazing," he said at last. "It'd take humans weeks to recover from a shattered knee and probably never fully recover for Od. That is amazing. Well good, game plan time. Zorya, Inti, how have the Ilythians responded?"

"Some are furious, some are in shock, some are having break downs as we speak," Zorya said. "The especially devout are taking it as a sign that we are on the right path."

"And those that aren't?" Desmond asked.

"They say we invite death among the ranks."

Desmond snorted, "Well, they aren't wrong. Regardless, they will follow?"

"They are all loyal to the cause. We are all Hedren and abhor what the Adjatevs are doing. Some do not like it, but they will get over it."

"So they'll listen when I give orders?"

Zorya winced, "Yes."

"But best to have Baldur and Od give the orders yeah?"

"Probably for the best," Zorya nodded.

"Great," Desmond said, rubbing his hands together. "Well. I'm sure you and Into will be closely monitoring Od's recovery. Once he's up and about he'll resume his normal duties as leader of the Ilythians, just as a _sengar_, but I give him full power and authority to do what he needs to do for the good of his people."

"Of course."

"And as for you," he turned to Baldur who looked very uncomfortable. "You're going to be fighting with angels."

"Angels?" Baldur asked.

"Yeap. I need an army that's coming with me to the atoll. They're going to be fighting with my angels."

"Uh… sorry sir but I don't know what an angel is. I was a non combatant during the First War," she said awkwardly.

"Well, they look like this," Desmond said and expanded his sight. Zorya and Inti both leaned back and Baldur looked _extremely_ uncomfortable. Thor was so freaked out he turned his chair over when he stood. "No need for that," Desmond told Thor. "An angel is a human psychic."

"Those exist?" Baldur asked.

"Oh yes," Desmond smiled widely. "And they are _marvelous_."

"They are far from that," Zorya said.

Desmond's eyes turned blue in an instant, "Be quiet Zorya," he said, glaring. "I will not hear a bad word about my species from you _keens_ again. Understood?" he asked. He didn't know how or even if he was doing it right, but he was _pretty sure_ he was using _hodori_ right then. Made sense that if humans could do such things with the e'dn that the same ideas could be used for _hodori_ and Desmond had been subconsciously using manipulative e'dn for years without realizing it. Once he realized it it was surprisingly easy to realize it and then make the switch over the sixth sense. His eyes went back to normal. "Our species evolved similar lines, they just have different abilities. They are not _lesser_ and they are not abominable. I'm _Ando_ now and I hear you bad mouth my angels I'll just throw you out of my council. How about that?"

Zorya narrowed her eyes. "You do not have that authority," she said.

"Well if push came to shove I'd just kill you," Desmond threatened. "Now shut up, shape up, and stop being such a fucking bigot. You'll go further in life than just wanting to free your human livestock like a militant vegan." Zorya had nothing to say to that. "Now then, Baldur," he turned back to Baldur, more upbeat than his verbal abuse he'd just given Zorya. "I need an army, small army. We're attacking the atoll, and you'll be fighting with us humans."

"And what will they be doing?" she asked slowly.

"Hopefully, shit like throwing fire balls and blinding people and if we're _really_ lucky our telekinetics will be able to lift larger things and throw them at people. I think one of our angels is an electrokinetic but right now all he can do is make some serious static build up but maybe by the time we get going it'll be actual lightning. They'll be doing stuff you can't and really you're just going to be the vanguard so the angels can work to, if nothing else, send them all running with their tails between their legs."

Baldur's eyes were huge. "They can do that?" Thor asked.

"Oh yeah," Desmond nodded.

"But I thought telekinesis was impossible."

"It isn't," Baldur said. "Desmond used it… on me. So I wouldn't kill _Ando_- I mean _sengar_ Od," she said.

"Mhmm," Desmond nodded again. "Everything you find hard, or impossible, or that only one in a billion proeathan can do; we can do. We can't do what you do. Different skill sets, and the proeathans, especially the Adjatevs, are terrified of ours."

"But you'll never make landfall without backup," Baldur said.

"_Proeathan_ backup," Desmond said. "So I want you to find me those volunteers you said there were hundreds of. We start training you all with the angels the day after tomorrow."

"Like we did before?" Baldur asked.

"Not at all. We aren't working together. In fact I don't care if you don't even work together before the assault. All I care about is that they will, one hundred percent, not allow a single enemy proeathan through their front lines and at our vulnerable angels. None of them are soldiers, Baldur. They're just people who can more easily access their gifts than others. If even _one_ enemy soldier gets through your line, we're done. That is what we're training for. Protect the humans."

"And I assume kill the Adjatevs?" Thor asked.

"Oh yes. Kill all the Adjatevs you want," Desmond said mirthlessly. "How's that sound?" he asked Baldur. Zorya and Inti just looked on disapprovingly.

Baldur looked at the two old _sengars_, then up at Desmond. "I think I'll be able to find us _plenty_ of volunteers to kill some Adjatevs," she said. Desmond smiled and she smiled back. Alright. Good plan.

* * *

><p>I miss the rest of my birds :C<p> 


	64. Old Birds New Tricks

Lessons with Lilith always made Desmond a bit disorientated when he woke up again. Lucy was with the other angels, training them, and Baldur and Od were with his proeathan army, training them to be guards. So Desmond was alone when he came to. Or he thought he was. When he sat up he found himself facing his ancestors, all of them sitting opposite him. "Uh.. Hi," he said awkwardly.

"Demeter says its dangerous to spend so much time in a vessel," Hawk said.

"I can handle it," Desmond said and stretched. "Way easier on my mind than hours stuck in an Animus," he added. "So what's up?" he asked, grabbing his ankles.

The three of them traded looks. "We want to be a part of this. We're able to use eagle vision-

"But you want to know if you can use the E'dn?" Desmond finished for Altair. They all nodded. "I don't know. We'll ask," he picked up Lilith's Chalice.

"What is that?" Ezio asked.

"A Chalice. It 'eats luck' or whatever."

"Eats luck?"

"Proeathans just talk into it and it makes them feel better like when you confess to a priest," Desmond said and filled it from the tank Demeter had sitting there. "Lilith should be able to tell if you're angel material without drawing you in." The three of them got up.

"What do we have to do?" Altair asked.

"Hold out your hands, palms up," Desmond said. They did. Desmond expanded his senses. This was a test for him. He had done the rough control of large things when he'd yanked Baldur off Od a few days ago but it had been a spur of the moment. This time he was going to try something deliberate and not just the super fine precision it took to light bend. He set the Chalice down midair between him and his ancestors. The goblet wobbled a little, spilling some of the water but Desmond concentrated and it held still.

"Are you doing that?" Altair asked.

"Yeah," Desmond said, and looked at them with a smile. He imagined it had to look pretty freaky with his black eyes. "I'm practicing, and Lilith is teaching me. Now lets see," he moved his hand and the band became a short little knife. He nicked the tip of his finger and let the blood drip into the goblet.

"Back again so soon, Desmond," Lilith's voice was silky as she appeared in the water. "I thought our session was over for the day."

"I have some would-be angels. They want to know if they can use the e'dn."

"All humans can use the e'dn," Lilith said.

"Yeah but they can use an angel _sikaz_ so I dunno if they're able."

"Hmmm," she said pensively. "Let us see then," and she held her hand out to the very edge of the water.

"So what do we do?" Ezio asked.

Desmond reached over and took Ezio's wrist. "Let her taste your blood." He cut Ezio's finger and held it over the goblet. A few fat drop landed right on the image of Lilith's outstretched hand and she closed her fist around them. Desmond released Ezio's hand and Ezio pressed his thumb to the cut, applying pressure to it. "So Lilith?" he asked.

"Faint, but I think there is a possibility," she said. "From what you have told me your kind tried for his sort of ability. He is very well bred. Heh, the proeathans would have loved him before the end of the First War. Strong proeathan blood and ability to use their _sikaz_."

"So… I can't?" Ezio asked.

"You are human aren't you?" she asked smartly.

"Yes?" Ezio was unsure himself at this point.

"Then you can. Though to what effectiveness I do not know. It might be very difficult for you."

"I see," Ezio said gravely.

"Me next," Altair said and unsheathed his hidden blade and cut open his own finger. A thin stream of plopped into the goblet, turning the pale pink water a distinct red color before Altair put pressure on it to stem the blood flow.

"Hmm," Lilith seemed surprised by this. "You are surprisingly pure," she said. "Far more so than the other one. Who were your parents?"

"My father was a warrior, I didn't know my mother," Altair said.

"Well, somewhere in your lineage your forefathers had a strong line of angels. But the _sikaz_ are strong with you too, isn't it?"

"You could say that," Altair allowed.

"Have you ever found yourself able to sense things others couldn't? Such as when you slept?"

"Not particularly. I did have contact with a vessel for… many years. It allowed me to do things others couldn't-

"Are you Altair?" Lilith cut him off.

"Uh… yes?" Altair glanced at Desmond.

"If I had a body I would beat you to an inch of your life _fool_. This is all your fault-

"Yeah yeah. Been yelled at about this already, you're a bit too late for it old lady," Altair growled.

Lilith just had to exist there in impotent fury without a body. "Desmond, please slap him for me."

"Lilith if I thought I could get away with it I would have by now," Desmond said patiently.

"Watch it," Altair growled at him. "And well, am I good enough to do other things?" he demanded.

"What did you do with the vessel?" she asked shortly.

"Future see mainly," Altair said. "And control."

"Disgusting. Do not teach yourself the e'dn. You sound like a-

"A what?" Altair asked. There were too many consonants in a row in that word.

"It is a word that means 'lover of proeathans'."

"Hey now. No need to be a bitch to me. I hate proeathans."

"Control through the e'dn is an abomination. If that is your natural talent than do not foster it. Learn to scry without a vessel and become a guide to other angels to direct their minds towards the image of a true future. Perhaps it will teach you something about the shape of the future and we will not have _mistakes_ like this again."

"_What the fuck is her problem? Is she this bitchy all the time?"_ Altair asked Desmond in Arabic.

_"Well she is a demon_," Desmond just shrugged. Altair just turned away, folding his arms and sulking. "Okay Hawk, your turn."

"Do it," Hawk held out his hand and Desmond nicked his thumb. Hawk let a few fat drops land in the water.

Lilith said nothing for a long time. "Lilith?" Desmond asked.

To his immense surprise she opened her eyes. She only did that when she was surprised. Her eyes were black either. Behind the black of her angel sight her eyes were pretty brown in hue and they looked in Hawk's direction. "What happened to you?" she asked him. "You're so… damaged."

"A vessel happened to me," Hawk pulled out his Apple and put it next to the Chalice. They both began to glow and their lights played off against one another. Then the Apple dimmed and Hawk brought it back to him.

"As you are now, you're hopeless," Lilith said. "I'm amazed you're alive. That should… should have killed you. I'm so sorry. There is nothing that can be done, and the e'dn and _sikaz_ should be impossible for you."

"I can use eagle vision," Hawk said.

"With difficulty?"

"Sometimes," Hawk said. "And some angel powers with the help of the Apple."

"Yes. I would think so. I don't even know what to tell you just that… I am sorry. I hope you are freed one day, both of you are."

"What?" Hawk asked but Lilith's visage had faded. "Desmond, what did she mean? Bring her back," Hawk said and stood over the Chalice, looking into it.

"Lilith," Desmond said. She didn't reappear. "Lilith I know you can hear me. Come back." He let himself bleed into her a bit but she refused to show herself. "Sorry Hawk. I can't. She's being stubborn and I can only do so much to make her do as I want," Desmond said helplessly.

Hawk looked at the Chalice and to everyone's surprise grabbed it out of the air and hurled it across the garden. "Hawk!" Ezio cried but Hawk just stalked off, clutching his Apple in his other hand. "Yikes. What the hell?" Ezio looked between Altair and Desmond.

"Lilith had no good news for him," Desmond said. He held his hand out towards where Hawk had thrown Lilith and it took a second or two but the Chalice lifted up off the ground and flew back into his hand. His eyes returned to normal.

"Well she wasn't exactly helpful the entire time," Altair was still sulking.

"She just told you what you wanted to know and offered insight to what we didn't know," Desmond said. "Though are you really that surprised?"

"Not really," Ezio said. "My family always had a good pedigree."

"Once you learned about it," Altair grunted.

"Yeah," Ezio said.

"I doubt I get the 'angel' from Umar. He wasn't special," Altair said.

"Too bad you never knew your mother," Desmond said.

Altair shrugged, "It doesn't matter that much. It was a thousand years ago, or just about." Then he sighed, "But at least we know now. I asked Jake if he wanted to come."

"What'd he say?"

Ezio snorted even as Altair said, "He said 'I got enough problems with this old fart in my head. I don't want any psychic bullshit to deal with either.'"

Desmond laughed, "Yeah that sounds like him," he agreed.

"How are you doing with your psychic… things?" Altair asked awkwardly.

"Cool, watch this," Desmond said and his eyes went black and they were transported from the ark to New York City. His ancestors looked around in wonder. Desmond could replicate sight, sounds, and even smells. Lilith said most illusionists could do one of the three but rarely all three. She hadn't been surprised Desmond could do all three either.

"This is amazing, Desmond," Altair said.

"Thanks. And I'm trying to teach myself this part," he closed his eyes and the illusion faded out. It took a lot of concentration for Desmond to do what he did next. His feet lifted up off the grass and he levitated a few inches above the ground. It lasted only a few seconds before he dropped down. When he opened his eyes again Ezio and Altair were staring at him open mouthed. "Pretty cool huh?" he asked, beaming.

"You can levitate?" Altair demanded.

"Well, not quite. I'm still working out the kinks. Lilith says I'm weird that I can manipulate photons with greater ease than bigger things," he chuckled. "Usually for telekinetics its the other way around."

"Manipulate photons?" Ezio asked.

"Yeah, like this," Desmond smirked and expanded his eyes again. It took him hardly any focus to deflect light from hitting Ezio and effectively turned him invisible.

"Holy shit! How are you doing this?" Ezio's disembodied voice asked.

"Telekinesis where I redirect photos from hitting a surface, you, and letting them enter a lens, my eye, and Altair's eye," Desmond said. "Lilith says its really hard. I think its easy now," Desmond made himself invisible too. "Excellent party trick. Or if you want to sneak into a girl's locker room."

"Yeah, you were born in the eighties," Altair said dryly, "Only guys growing up in the nineties would say shit like that." Desmond laughed.

"Well, that's enough fun for one day," Desmond said and put Lilith into the tank of salt water. She liked it in there as it simulated an actual brain and allowed Lilith to extend herself a bit beyond her metal form. "I'm starving."

"Well it is lunch time," Ezio agreed.

"Great timing then. Lets go get some grub, then I gotta go check in on Lucy and Baldur, see how my favorite girls are coming along with their little armies," Desmond said cheerfully.

"Des," Altair said as he walked along beside him.

"Hmm?"

"You seem happy."

"I am," Desmond said. "This shit is almost done. Meaning we're at the end. Meaning I can fucking _rest_, finally. I am looking for a nice long nap when this is over."

"Just a nap though, right?" Ezio asked. "Not go to sleep forever?"

Desmond didn't answer right away. "Maybe," was all he said and did his best to ignore the upset air surrounding Altair and Ezio after he said that. Better to just focus on food and the now and not the future that would probably end in Desmond's death.


	65. From One Egg

/squints

wtf is even this chapter? Idk. Its a ride is what it is.

Also Q&A was updated on my blog

* * *

><p>Desmond knew he was sleeping. Nice change of pace honestly. He didn't do a terribly lot of that despite getting a hang on keeping the seepage from his leaky brain. He didn't feel like having the nightmares though. The stress and self doubt nightmares were a pretty much a constant at this point. It did help that he could pass out in Lucy's room again when he needed to. Chair sleeping probably wasn't the best for his posture or back but it gave him some measure of peace so he didn't care.<p>

So not having a nightmare while sleeping was a great upgrade. At least he thought it wasn't a nightmare. The young and pretty version of Tiamat was there and that did worry him.

"Hello, deary," she said.

"Uh… Hi Tiamat," Desmond said awkwardly. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Apollo."

"I am in Apollo," Tiamat said. They were nowhere. No fake world from Tiamat. It was instead the starscape Desmond was used to when he saw his AI. Only there was no bounding box for this starfield and it was free to stretch to the endless horizon and break through so it was like they were standing in the center of a sphere. Where their feet rested on the seemingly mirrored ground darkness formed in the shape of their footprints and a bit from beyond them. "My… Look at you deary. You look grown up now. Less afraid."

"How are you here? Is your telepathic reach that far?" Desmond demanded.

She giggled. "No. I'm simply going the easy route than straining myself. We're dream sharing. Surely you've done it properly before and not that half baked REM interfacing the AI do?"

Desmond blinked. "No. And how can _you_ dream share. You're a proeathan. Dream sharing is a human skill."

She giggled again. "Because I'm special of course. Special like you. Special like those before us."

"Like how?"

"I'm a _stadalla. _Not The Stadalla of course, but one of them."

"What? But you're a synth," Desmond stammered. It seemed like every time he figured this bullshit out it changed. He just wanted a straight answer on what the hell he was! Was that too much to ask?

"Yes, exactly," she said cheerfully. "But let's be honest with each other. What is it _really_ that makes a psychic? My people think they know, but they still made me, and made me _different_. There is a quality in some people they can't explain or reproduce on command. They are power. They are us," she motioned to herself and Desmond, coming closer to him, in her wake was darkness and it unfurled like a great cape, blocking out the stars. Desmond felt more than saw a huge thing lurking behind her. A massive power and age Desmond wouldn't even comprehend. Desmond supposed there was a reason they called her a dragon goddess.

"What are you doing here? Why now? I don't have time for this."

"You are failing on your side of our agreement, deary," Tiamat said and put her finger right in the middle of his forehead. She applied pressure and his head felt like an egg about to split in two. He crumpled but didn't fall. "I told you, take care of yourself. You are failing."

"What?" Desmond gasped, holding his head and seeing fire. "I'm doing the best I can."

"You misunderstand," and when Desmond looked up, his face pouring sweat, there was a copy of himself standing next to Tiamat except this Desmond had two scars on his face. "He doesn't know he's here. He's sleeping safe and sound somewhere else. Our agreement was you wouldn't torment and torture him."

"I-I'm not. He's free. He can do whatever he wants."

"And you left him alone with a head full of ghosts of the dead. You know what the feels like and yet you inflicted it upon him without thought or care."

Desmond could finally straighten, his head was still aching though. "What do you want me to do about it? You knew what would happen to him when you let me take him."

"I expected you take better care of yourself, and him," Tiamat said. "Now fix it."

"One, how do you expect me to? Two, can't you see I'm _busy_ and have no time for this shit. And three, what will you do if I don't? You're stuck in China- AHG!" this time Desmond didn't fall to the ground, clutching his head.

"Do not try my patience boy," Tiamat said icily, the mass of power and darkness behind her shifting like a miasma. "You might be special but you are _replaceable_."

"Fuck you!" Desmond yelled and lurched to his feet. As he did a great wind kicked up. It blew away Tiamat's hulking shadow and her illusions and left her a frail old woman standing before him, her once black hair now bone white and lank, her skin sagging around her face. She wasn't bent but she was tiny with dangerous eyes that held a dark, hungry, intellect. "This is _my _dream space and you can fuck off. I will not be intimidated by you old people anymore. You should all be _dead_ now anyway."

He flinched when a spike went through his brain but did not buckle. "Watch your tone deary," Tiamat's real voice was soft and raspy. She sounded like someone's wicked grandmother.

"You _need _me. Otherwise how will you ever be free?"

"A cage is only a cage to things like us when we want them to be, deary," she said. "You are coming into your power. But I have been to the Unnamed and there are things that await you you cannot even begin to comprehend. The answer to every question you didn't even think to ask is there. There are things I can do you could not dream of and only those who have entered the Unnamed and come back to their god hood could understand.

"You are a matter of convince to this world, and to me. I need you because I want to need you. Not because I cannot free myself. I am a goddess fully born while you are a god yet still in heavy labor. Not yet ready to grasp the breadth of what it truly means to use the _hotai _and the _e'dn_ in conjunction." The shadow was building again. Building and billowing out behind her like a great pair of invisible wings. Desmond still couldn't see it but he could feel it as dread and knowledge of power in his mind. A vast psychic power that was an ocean to his raindrop. For all his progress Desmond was keenly reminded of how new at all this he was and that Tiamat was vastly more powerful than him.

"Now stop speaking and listen," she said and Desmond said nothing. His head was agony and he thought he was bleeding from the nose. He could taste the coppery fluid on his upper lip and dripping down the back of his throat. "We had an agreement. You would _not_ torment your clone and you would free me from Chronos, in return, I would release him into your care to be of use to you. Instead I find him… oh what is the word you use now?" She grasped for it a few seconds. "Yes, _Bleeding_. You might not be hurting him directly but your neglect is killing him. You are going back on our deal, deary."

"And what will you do if I do nothing?" Desmond asked, spitting blood by his feet.

"I don't have to be near you to kill you," she said simply.

"You wouldn't!" he said.

"I wouldn't? Why not?" she lifted her hand a bit and her illusion was fixed back in place. Tiamat was once more young and beautiful, tall and poised with a perfectly beautiful and dangerous face. Her eyes hadn't changed at all.

"I'm the _stadalla_."

"There will be others," she said dismissively.

"Humans will be wiped out."

"My people would not wipe you out. They need you. Without you they feel unimportant. They will just make you slaves again and wipe out the history of your freedom, as they did before. But there will _always_ be some free humans, somewhere, who will remember. They will breed angels again and those angels will rebel. There will be another human _stadalla_. There have been human _stadalla_. Do not think yourself so special," she said it with a humored smile. "It will take longer if I kill you, but equilibrium will be reached eventually. Our species will exist together peacefully. It can happen with you, or it will happen with eighteen, or nineteen, or twenty, or twenty-five. It matters not to me."

"Then what does?"

"That you do what I say, deary," she said cutely. "Now get up, find your clone, and make _nice_ or the next time we meet in here I won't be so gentle."

"Fuck you," Desmond groaned.

"If you live to see the Unnamed-

"You mean if I don't piss you off," he growled.

"Same thing," she smiled sweetly. "You will see what I mean when I say you are young and unborn. The power within is immense and if you come out you will be like the rest of the _stadalla_. A god in truth, and worthy of your paper title."

"Get out of my dream, Tiamat," he said.

"Sleep tight," she said and then the blackness swallowed her up and retreated away from the stars, leaving Desmond alone.

Desmond opened his eyes. He had a _huge_ headache. "Fuck," he groaned and shifted in the chair.

"Desmond," Demeter's voice rang through the room and across it Desmond heard and saw Lucy shift and wake.

"Shhhh," Desmond shushed his AI.

"I insist you go to the med bay _at once_," she said sternly.

"Demeter, what's wrong?" Lucy groaned from her bed.

"Desmond is bleeding. Now I insist," Demeter said.

"I'm what?" Desmond asked and finally reached up and touched his face. His nose was bleeding. "Bitch," he muttered. "Its just a nose bleed, nothing to worry about," he waved off his AI.

Demeter turned the lights of the room on and Lucy whined, pulling the covers over her head. "This is not up for discussion. Report to the med bay," Demeter ordered.

Desmond blinked up at the ceiling. "I'm getting real tired of being ordered around," he said softly. "You do not order me, Demeter," and then the glyphs all over his body started to glow. The lights all went out. "Sorry," he called to Lucy.

"Your AI suck, Desmond," she announced.

"Sorry, just go back to sleep," he said even as he levered himself out of the chair and went to find something to mop up his face. As he got up he swayed from a rush of blood to the head. His head pounded and he rubbed his temple. Tiamat and her mind spikes were rough. He found a rag and mopped up his face, catching all the blood and going back to the chair. He settled down and waited for his nose to stop bleeding.

"Now what?" Desmond sighed softly when there was knocking on Lucy's door.

"Desmond I am going to throw you out," Lucy warned sleepily.

"Sorry. Sorry," he got up, again getting a serious head rush from standing. He lowered the glow and opened the door. Cain was standing there. "Now what?"

"Demeter called me," Cain said and without asking for permission grabbed Desmond's head, tipping it back some. "Your eyes are bloody," he said.

"I was sleeping."

"Yes. I can tell. Demeter said you might have a concussion."

"Oh for the love of- I was _sleeping_."

'C'mon," and Desmond couldn't protest or dig his heels in fast enough to resist when Cain pulled him out of Lucy's room.

"Cain, stop," Desmond managed to stop him mid point in the hall. Cain looked at him. "I don't have a fucking concussion. Stop that!" he yelled when Cain flicked him on the forehead.

"I saw you talking to Tiamat," Demeter said.

"Tiamat?" Cain asked, "You didn't tell me that. What did she say?" he asked Desmond.

"None of your business," Desmond said defensively and folded his arms.

"What'd she say?" Cain just asked again.

"Nothing important just being a fu— a bitch."

"She can reach out here?"

"Oh, you have _no_ idea," Desmond huffed.

"Cain, take him to the med bay. I am concerned about his health," Demeter said.

Cain looked up at the ceiling, then down to Desmond again, "Well you heard the lady."

"I'm _fine_."

"Haven't we been over this that that lie is as old as I am and I don't care to hear it? Now c'mon. If Tiamat can give me pause you should take this seriously."

"What are you, my dad?"

"Would you like me to be?" and Desmond couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Or should I go get Altair?"

Desmond glowered, "Fine," and he walked past Cain in a huff. He just had wanted to go back to sleep. Though what Tiamat had said still echoed with him. That she could kill him even across the planet. That she _was_ a goddess. Shit that _he_ wasn't even what everyone called him.

Cain followed him to the med bay and Desmond submitted himself to Demeter's gentle care. "What's a stadalla?" Desmond asked as Demeter took a scan of his head.

Cain gave him a look, "Surely you know by now," he said. "Or did Tiamat mess with your head too much?"

"I mean, I know… I guess," he shrugged. "But she said that _she_ was a stadalla too. And I was, well, that I wasn't a real one. Or something," he frowned. "She called herself a god-

"She is presumptuous," Cain said mildly.

"I mean, that's obvious. But she could do stuff I didn't think she could. Like she was in my head and I didn't really appreciate before just how _powerful_ she was. She said there have been others, and other _human_ _stadalla_ before me. Why didn't anyone tell me that? Like I know what a _stadalla_ does, but how do they chose who's one? Like psychic power? But literally before eight months ago I had none of that."

Cain was frowning. "I couldn't tell you," he admitted. "The proeathans weren't exactly _exact_ with how they named their gods."

"We were," Morpheus said and Desmond glanced up at the ceiling. The machine attached to thing on his head dinged and lifted up off his head. "There is a specific criteria for our gods to be named such."

"And gods and _stadalla_ are interchangeable?" Desmond asked.

"To become a god one must be _stadalla_, but not all _stadalla_ are gods_. _Eve was a _stadalla_ but she is not one of our gods," Morpheus said. Then he was quiet for a moment, as though he was hesitating. "Though the Adjatevs forced the title of _stadalla_ upon you. Truthfully, you are not one _yet_."

"What the _fuck_?" Desmond demanded. "So this entire time-

"It is a technicality," Morpheus said quickly. "_Stadalla_ may be named for the events leading up to their ascension, but the rules laid out by Neptune the Fifth is the strict adherence to godhood. Those who enter the Unnamed and returned whole and alive are worthy of godhood. They are 'gods' but we do not acknowledge them as _stadalla_. It just so happens that the only ones who have entered the Unnamed and come out have _also_ been _stadalla_."

"So Eve was a _stadalla_ but she was not a god?" Desmond asked. "So the constructs don't count?"

"We've only knowledge of one," Pluto said.

"Two," Hera chimed in. "That is how I knew of the one in the Pacific. Artemis claimed her godhood within the atoll construct when she crushed the Drell empire and stopped their advance into what is now south east Asia and ended the Lesh'v'rin civil war. The Faceless acknowledged her power as _stadalla_ as though she had used the Unnamed's great powers as she changed the entire shape of that hemisphere of the world during her time. Her godhood was swift but she is also seen as the weakest of the gods."

"But _human_ proeathan gods?" Desmond pressed. Her had nothing to say. "Morpheus," he demanded, "you promised me."

"There are four," Morpheus said at last. "Their stories are not well known and their stars vaguely unlucky. Their humanity has been mostly scrubbed out of our mythos. But there are always books that remark upon them. Hera and Juno were the first, then Venus and the most famous and destructive is Saturn much later. Only Hera is seen as 'good' as she was said to be a higher thinking being of proeathan thought who brought her barbaric human species into contact with our species. At least that is how scripture paints her."

"And you didn't tell me this?" Desmond asked.

"You care not for our religion, what would it have mattered?" Morpheus asked. "They are minor gods of destruction and we know how you feel when we bring up your species as animals."

"Also you are bleeding internally, Desmond," Demeter said.

"Seriously? What a _bitch_," he hissed.

"I _insist_ you enter the healing pod so I may fix it."

"If I don't?"

"You will die," Demeter said.

"Bring it the fuck on then," Desmond said boredly. "Not getting in that thing."

"Desmond-

"I am _not_ getting in that thing!" he yelled. "Last time I was stuck in it for _five years_. Other time I woke up in the middle of Apollo. What else can fix it?"

There was a brief silence that held anxious dread like a water balloon, just expanding outward and straining at the edges. Desmond knew his AI were conversing silently. "Well," Artemis said. "You could submit yourself to a psychic scalpel. The psychic would literally fix your brain psychically."

"Proeathans can't affect things outside themselves though," Desmond said.

"You wouldn't use a proeathan," Demeter said. "Proeathans would make one with a vessel."

"Or you could use an angel outright," Artemis said.

"We have anyone like that in the ark?" Everyone's blood had been tested for Eagle Vision but there had to be tests you could run for angel abilities too.

There was an uncomfortable silence. "Well… you," Demeter said. "But doing it on yourself is unadvisable."

"So my option is get in that pod, operate on myself, or find a Scalpel, is what you're telling me?"

"I have no Scalpels in my inventory," Venus put in. "They were left back in the Vault since they can be… difficult to use correctly. Though perhaps because they were used on proeathans by proeathans and we know how vesseled angels feel about being used like that."

"Desmond I promise, you will come out of that pod," Demeter said.

"And what if I don't want to come out?" Desmond asked them. "I'm not getting in there. There has to be another option."

"Well," Cain said slowly.

"What? You?"

"No," Cain said. "But… there is another you running around the ark. If its incredibly dangerous to perform psychic head surgery on yourself, you could just have your clone do it."

Desmond blinked slowly up at Cain. "She did this on purpose. What a conniving—" he just ended in a growl.

"Did what on purpose?"

"She wants me to 'spend time' with my clone and make nice with it. So she's forcing me to do either something she knows I will refuse to do, or make nice with my clone and convince him to help me."

Cain was quiet for a few seconds. "That is both _ingenious_ and also terrible. Why would she do that?"

"Because that was the deal I made," Desmond said and got up. His head ached as he did. "Demeter, how bad is the bleeding?"

"You have a brain hemorrhage, Desmond, it is _life threatening_ to your species," Demeter said.

"My life is life threatening. What am I going to expect out of this?"

She made an annoyed noise at Desmond he almost would describe as a swarm of pissed off bees. "You're going to experience dizziness, nausea, headaches, and numbness in your limbs. Your coordination is going to go and you're going to have trouble talking and understanding people. Seizures, tremors, and loss of consciousness."

"Man, you just read off the entire list from WebMD?" Desmond asked sarcastically.

"This is serious Desmond! You will die if you do not treat this."

"Then I will die," Desmond said. "How long do I have?"

More angry bee swarm noises. "Tiamat was very deliberate with what she did. The cut is small so you are leaking but the wall of your blood vessel was weakened significantly and will give out in the next day or so."

"So two days?"

"Yes, we'll say two days," Demeter said.

"If I don't get him to fix it I will die?"

"Or you could stop this foolishness _now_ and submit to the med pod and I can heal you."

"No," Desmond said. "Because you might finish, but I won't come out."

"Desmond-" Cain tried.

"Don't even with me Cain," he glared. "Also you're all forbidden from telling the others. _No one_ but us knows about that. Agreed?" he asked Cain.

"What will you do if I say no?"

"Doesn't Demeter have a box you can't break out of?" was his threat. "No one will know you're there, and you're a proeathan. You'll have no way to reach out to tell someone you're there."

Cain glowered at him. "I will say nothing, but if you don't convince your clone I will tell Altair, Ezio, and Hawk. We will put you into the pod and pull you out again."

"Good. Then we're agreed."

"We do not agree," Pluto said sharply.

"But… we will obey," Demeter sighed.

"No shit you will. Now Demeter, take me to Tommy, we gotta talk."


	66. One Winged Angels

Desmond found Tommy in the cafeteria having an early breakfast. Desmond wasn't surprised to see that. What he _was _surprised to see was that he wasn't alone. Desmond had expected Tommy to make friends, he was Desmond after all and even Bleeding out (which Desmond had done) he was still friendly and got along well with people. What he was not expecting was to see him eating breakfast with John. For only that reason Desmond hung back, just to see what was going on. He couldn't hear them but he could watch.

It kinda weirded Desmond out that John was friends with Tommy. It was like Desmond had shut him down and out so he's just gone and found, literally, another Desmond. It was kinda creepy and made him wonder even more why John cared so much to the point of weird obsession with him. Enough that he'd seen Tommy and decided that he was a good option.

He watched them interact for a few minutes before deciding he couldn't wait to see if John left. If his brain was _literally_ bleeding he needed to fix it. He knew none of his other angels had the focus or precision with their telekinesis to be a psychic scalpel. Desmond did but he couldn't operate on his own brain. Desmond also knew his own head and abilities. Even at the very end when he's been Bleeding Ezio and Altair so heavily that he could smell Venice and feel the intense Syrian sun on his arms and tasted blood in his mouth from a fight regularly. Not his blood of course, blood from the enemy, because Altair and Ezio were not kind or gentle swordsmen. Ezio especially was a hacker and liked making blood spray everywhere while Altair just cut them up so much it was inevitable that blood got all over him and even in his mouth. They'd become significantly more refined in the centuries but Desmond knew. And even during all that, he was still sharp and still able to function and function at a raised level needed for the work they did. Tommy might have been Bleeding but he was also still Desmond and Desmond knew he was his best chance without getting into that pod. Tiamat knew that too, which was why she'd done this entire thing.

Desmond walked over to their table. John looked, Tommy did not. He sat down without invitation.

"Tom, you didn't tell me you had a brother," John said.

Tommy gave Desmond a look. A pained look. Why was Desmond here? "Yeah uh… We don't really get along," Tommy said awkwardly.

"I heard proeathans rounded up all the twins for experiments," John said and Desmond didn't know if he didn't know they _weren't _twins or what. Sure as shit he recognized Desmond. Had recognized him the first time they'd met weeks ago.

"Oh really?" Desmond feigned interest for half a second. "John, I need to talk to Tommy."

"Yeah, of course."

"Alone," Desmond said gave him a look.

"Right. Well, see you around Tommy," he got up and waved a little. Tommy lifted his hand in farewell but but didn't look away from Desmond.

John left after a few seconds to see if he was going to get any other response. When he didn't he left the two alone. "What do you want?" Tommy asked. "I've done everything you've said. Can't you just leave me alone?"

"I need your help," Desmond said, cutting right to the point.

Tommy sat there, digesting that. "You, need _my_ help? Oh well doesn't that sound familiar. No. Fuck you go away," he looked away.

Desmond knew nothing he could tell Tommy about him dying or the proeathans winning would change his mind. He knew because if he was in Tommy's position, as a throw away thing that was dying rapidly, there was nothing anyone could say that affected everyone he would care about. So he just told Tommy the truth. "Tiamat is trying to kill me because I left you alone."

"Good."

"And she told me to go be with you, or I'd die."

"And here you are, just like a good boy," Tommy said dryly.

"I wanted you to have a life," Desmond said. "Not mine."

"Save it."

"The others still don't know you are free. That's on purpose you know."

"Yeah so? Why do I care if you die? I'm going to die too and no one's gonna care. You're barely any better. Only six people are gonna care if you kick the bucket." Desmond had nothing to say to that, because Tommy wasn't wrong. They just sat there for a bit before Tommy's curiosity got the better of him. "What do you want?"

"Tiamat, literally, cut my head open. I'm bleeding-

Tommy laughed, "Oh the irony."

"If I don't get help I'm going to eventually bleed to death internally and die."

"I don't see how I can even help you."

"Because you're me-

"I'm _not_ the _stadalla_. No one cares if I'm you. I'm not even useful enough to the proeathans to reactivate their shut down tech. Even though I'm the exact copy of you," he sulked.

"No. You're not," Desmond said. "You're different than me."

"No I'm not," he looked away, hating both that he was the same and that he wasn't good enough to _actually_ be like Desmond.

"You ever use Eagle Vision?" Desmond asked.

Tommy looked at him out of the corner of his eye, "Not… really," he admitted.

"How about dreams? You dream a lot?"

"I dream constantly. Its aggravating," he grumbled and looked at Desmond better now.

"You ever dream about stars, and space?"

"I assume we aren't talking about normal dreams here," Tommy said slowly.

"What do you think?"

"I think you wouldn't ask me questions if it wasn't important to whatever stupid point you're about to make."

"It isn't stupid," Desmond said. "You're also connected to Eve now. You've lived through her."

"Yeah and? What's this about?"

"I think the proeathans cloned you wrong-

"I'm not a mistake," Tommy snarled.

"I didn't say that," Desmond kept calm the entire time. "No more than I was at least," and that sobered them both. "But what makes me me was triggered by something done to me, I think. Did the proeathans ever let you near a vessel?"

"Absolutely not. Humans weren't allowed to touch them."

"You know why?"

"Yes," he said softly.

"I think it was more for you," Desmond said. "They couldn't clone a _stadalla_. Not sure why. There's something going up here," he tapped his head, "that they can't replicate, or don't know how. Meaning you're… what I _should_ have been."

"The fuck does that mean?" Tommy said.

"I think you're an angel, and nothing else."

Tommy sat there a second and blinked at him. "All the angels are gone," he said.

"No, they aren't. Your friend John? He's a pyromancer. Those dreams you have of stars? That's dream sharing. You just do it. I didn't start to until things had happened to me, opened new pathways in my brain. I don't think that ever happened for you. So you just have my normal brain pattern but not the same connections because you can't really clone that. So you're just… me, if nothing had ever happened."

"And what's that mean for me?"

"Well, for starters it means you're potentially a _stupidly_ powerful human psychic."

"What's that mean for _you_?"

"Well, one, that maybe I'm not alone in being weird and powerful to the point it scares old angels who we call biblical demons. And two, that you can fix my brain."

"What if I don't want to? I still want you dead you know. That's never changed."

"I could make you not feel like that," Desmond said. "I could make you forget everything about me too. You could live your last days just being Tommy. An amnesiac, but no Desmond Miles left in there."

"You can? How?" he challenged.

"Hera took away all of Lucy's memories and feelings of me. She doesn't love me. I literally am _not_ in her memories anymore. If she can do that I don't know why she couldn't just give you a mind wipe."

"Would it fix my Bleeding? Could she take away Eve and all the rest?" Tommy asked.

Desmond paused. "I'm not sure," he confessed.

"I'd become an amnesiac, shit even help you live, if I got to live," Tommy said.

"I'm sorry," Desmond said, sincere and a bit hurt. "I honestly, never wanted to have to hurt us. I just had no choice."

"You could have _chosen_ to go into the Animus instead," Tommy hissed at him. "You could have sacrificed yourself."

"I have sacrificed enough," Desmond said. "You got to in my place."

"I never asked for this. I never asked to be born and I still have to sacrifice for you," Tommy growled.

"I didn't either. Deal with it and grow the fuck up." That took Tommy aback somewhat. "Now, do you want to help me? Do you want the memory wipe before, or after?

"Will I remember agreeing?"

"I don't know. Maybe? Who knows what you'll be like after it and how much Hera will take from you. The Blood Moon is a fickle luck."

Tommy looked down, at himself, all he was. He said nothing for a couple minutes. Then he looked up at Desmond. "I'll help you. I'll do what I can to fix your stupid brain. If you say I'm an angel that can fix your brain than I know I'll need more focus than what I can manage now. As it is we're sitting at a table with six other people all having dinner and it is _very_ distracting." Desmond didn't have to look to know that they were the only ones at the table and that the dining hall was still basically empty. "I want you to get rid of this shit in my head, and you. I don't want to remember anything about you, or her, or the world. I want to be new."

"I'll do what I can," Desmond promised. "I don't promise the ghosts will be all gone, but I'm confident Hera can do that." Then just to check he went, "Or am I promising too much, Hera?"

"We will try," she said.

"And," Tommy put his finger in Desmond's face. "If I'm all gone," he paused, scared out of his fucking mind, "promise me I won't be alone."

Desmond looked at Tommy. He was terrified but was jumping in feet first to this because he had nothing else. There was no other out. Desmond felt sad for him, and sad for himself. He looked at the hand in his face and gently took it. "We'll both have a brother again," he said, as a promise. Tommy took that for what it was and Desmond saw him very hard not to either slap Desmond or tear up. Instead he just nodded and that was that.


End file.
